


As it Seems

by Weasleychick32



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/F, F/M, Fluff, HP: EWE, Marriage Law Fic, Panic Attacks, Post-Hogwarts, Pranks and Practical Jokes, Romantic Comedy, Slow Build, introducing the twins to the horror that is glitter, lots and lots of glorious fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-26
Updated: 2014-08-12
Packaged: 2018-02-06 08:26:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 64,061
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1851298
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Weasleychick32/pseuds/Weasleychick32
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fred Weasley died in the final battle at Hogwarts. But then why am I, Cora Rivers, matched (via stupid, ridiculous, absurd, [see later rant for more adjectives]) marriage law to be married to him? All is obviously not as it seems...</p><p>Mild Warning for language (hense the teen rating) and also I'm not Jk Rowling, I own nothing, and blah blah blah.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Fred Weasley

**Author's Note:**

> A marriage law fic, yes I know. Horribly cliche and over done and doesn't really make sense for the Ministry to enact ever, but I was attacked by the plot bunny and it wouldn't leave me alone and so here we are. Also, I'm a weenie and totally and forever in denial, so Fred lives.
> 
> Further notes on how people are matched in the story: all I got is magic you guys. The love room in the Department of Mysteries is involved so that they can find and match people with their "soulmates" or what have you. I've gotten a complaint that since the Ministries goal is repopulation then they wouldn't match same sex couples. My only argument to this is that their only system of matching is the soulmate matching and they can't just scramble up couples at match them heterosexually because there would be conflict and probably riots.
> 
> And honestly the Ministress of Magic is a total softie and doesn't have it in her to match up someone with anyone who isn't their other half (she doesn't actually make an appearance in this story, but I've got a whole page written up on her so you'll just have to go with me on this). If this isn't a good enough explanation, I apologize, but maybe you should consider just moving on, yeah? Obviously these kinds of fics aren't for everyone and there's no shame in just walking away.
> 
> That all being said, if you do decide to continue I really hope you enjoy this. :) It picks up a bit after the first few chapters and I tried to just keep it moving along and not include filler chapters. This is a completed story so I'll update regularly.
> 
> Enjoy!

 

It’s the most ridiculous house I’ve ever seen in my life. I stand staring at the house before me and the feeling of foreboding swells in my chest. Totally anti-muggle. I mean the only possible way it could be standing is by magic. If a muggle were to see it they’d either have to request a change in the laws of physics or accept that there really is such thing as magic. My stomach bubbles in stressed discomfort and I unconsciously cross my arms over it, hugging myself. I hate stress. Honestly hate it with every fiber of my being. Hate. Hate. Hate.

I can’t seem to convince my feet to move forward on the path. The whole situation is making my skin crawl. It’s nauseating. Pretty much my worst nightmare come to life. Having my freedom forcibly stripped from me.

You see the whole reason I’m here standing outside this architectural eyesore is because of a law that was passed. A marriage law, of all things. What kind of government gets involved in people’s love lives? The British Ministry of Magic apparently. I guess the Wizarding population took a pretty hard hit in the war. Oh didn’t I mention that? Yeah there was a war.

Long story short some crazy nutso named Voldemort went berserk and gathered a bunch of followers (Death Eaters) and had them kill a bunch of muggles and muggleborns because their blood wasn’t up to his standards. But this kid and his school mates killed him a couple months ago and it’s all good now. Before Potter (the kid) snuffed him though, he killed a lot of muggleborns. _A lot_. And since muggleborns make up like half of Wizarding population nowadays we’re pretty low on magical blood now. That’s why they passed this law.

As if everyone won’t be poppin’ out kids like they’re going out of style now that old Voldy’s gone anyway. I swear the government these days… I thought we were finally on an upward swing with Kingsley Shacklebolt as Minister, but apparently that was only temporary. They voted in some shmuck named Denison to take the permanent position. I think she just enjoys playing matchmaker honestly.

Which brings us back to the present situation.

The reason I’m here standing outside “The Burrow”, as the sign hanging crookedly on the gate proclaims it, is because I have been assigned to marry one of its occupants within the next two months. One Fred Weasley. You know, some random guy that I’ve never even met before. I now get to bond myself for life to him because some loony in a position of power enjoys saying jump and watching a whole nation clamber to its feet. It’s disgusting. Revolting. Vile. Inhuman. Unfair. Humiliating. Infuriating. And just plain ARGABLARGA@&#$%#*%#$*#@%%*!!!!

But anyway.

Finally, I gather the courage to pull open the gate blocking the pathway to The Burrow. As I trudge down the dirt pathway skirting chickens and eyeing them distrustfully, the picture the Ministry sent me of Fred pops unbidden into my mind’s eye. He is rather good looking. I’ll admit that. The obnoxious Weasley red hair suits his ocean blue eyes (even if I do think it’s a bit long) and his freckles aren’t totally overwhelming. He’s got a nice facial structure, strong chin and all that, and a fit looking body from what I could see of his shoulders.

Unfortunately his shit eating grin and unrelenting flirtatious winking ruined all of that. Seriously I haven’t even met him yet and I want to punch him in the face. Ugh.

I give one final chicken a death glare (I don’t like birds okay?) and step up to the door. One deep breath later and I’ve knocked. I can hear several loud voices from within all shouting over one another and I begin to wonder if they can even hear me knocking. The idea that I may just have to let myself in and announce myself terrifies me so I knock again. Well I bang my fist on the wooden door as hard as I can without injuring myself anyway. This at least causes a slight lull in the yelling.

I hear footsteps on the other side of the door begin approaching me before the yelling resumes and swallows them up. I wipe my sweaty palms on my jeans and pray to whoever may be listening that I don’t look as terrified as I feel. The door finally pops open, releasing the full volume of the yelling voices within and a girl with long red Weasley hair glares out at me.

“What?” she snaps irritably.

“Umm,” is all that comes out. This is certainly not the reception I was expecting. I’d always heard good things about the Weasleys.

“What are you doing here?” she questions slowly as though I’m some lower life form. This sparks a bit of anger in me, just enough to get out some intelligible words.

“The marriage law. I’m supposed to meet-,”

“Ugh,” she rolls her eyes and stomps into the house beckoning for me to follow.

I make a face at her back and slog into the house behind her. I’m so dreading meeting this Fred Weasley that I can’t even be bothered with looking around the place. I focus my laser eyes on the back of Miss Pouty Pants’s head instead. I follow her down a hall and then turn left at the foot of the stairs into the kitchen, the source of all the raised voices. I hesitate a smidge in the doorway before I force myself to walk through it.

I couldn’t tell you much about what the kitchen looks like because it is jammed full of people, the majority of which have flaming heads. Well not literally, but their hair is red and they all seem very angry about something. I lose track of the unpleasant girl in the mass of new and vaguely familiar faces. I’ve just connected the dots and recognized Harry Potter when a loud sharp BANG rips through the air.

I jump and flinch away from the noise while nearly everyone else whips out theirs wands and strikes battle poses. My eyes widen at the sight of the wands and I step back into the doorway fingering my own.

“Oh put those away. I was only getting your attention.”

I struggle to identify the owner of the woman’s voice and finally spot her sitting at the far end of the table to my left with Grumpy Gills herself standing beside her, arms crossed and glaring a hole through my forehead. Jeez. What did I do?

The woman, whom I can only assume is Mrs. Weasley, gets to her feet. She looks worn and tired and her eyes are puffy like she’s been crying, but she still has a commanding aura about her that no one in the room dares to cross. Everyone quickly tucks away their wands and avoids her glare.

“Now if you’re all finished behaving like ruffians, we have a guest,” she says, smiling warmly at me. I grin weakly back, more than a little uncomfortable with all of the assessing eyes raking me up and down. My hand goes behind my back of its own accord to tug nervously at the end of my ponytail while the other hand clenches into a fist at my side.

“Erm hi. I’m Cora,” I tell them all with an awkward half wave.

“Pleased to meet you. Who are you here for dearie?” Mrs. Weasley asks glancing around the room. “It must be Charlie. He’s the only one left. I’m sorry dear but he’s in Romania still. Won’t be back until-,”

“Er no,” I interrupt when it becomes clear she won’t be running out of steam. “I’m uh, I’m actually here to see, er, meet Fred. Um, Fred Weasley?” My voice rises in pitch slightly making it a question when they all stare uncomprehendingly at me. I tug the end of my ponytail a bit harder at all the tension in the room.

“He’s my, umm, match,” I mutter and my lips press together in distaste at the word.

“Fred’s dead,” a quiet but rough voice finally fills the awkward silence. My eyes flick to the speaker and I blink at him for a moment. He’s sickly and pale. There’s no smirk and he’s not winking at me, but there’s no mistaking that he’s a dead ringer for the photograph of Fred Weasley that I received from the Ministry. I squint at him for a moment and then actually take my letter with match photo attached out of my pocket and squint at the two side by side. Yup. Dead ringer.

Then why is he lying to me? Oh right. Duh Cora. He’s trying to get out of marrying me. A pathetic attempt really. Still, I manage a small smile.

“Oh I see,” I say knowingly. “A family of jokes! Ha ha. Very funny. No, actually, it’s really not. A lot of families lost loved ones to the war so it’s pretty low of you to lie about it. And besides, the Ministry would know-”

“It’s not a lie!” Fred Weasley snarls at me, slamming his fists onto the table and half standing from his seat to lean towards me looking furious. I take another bewildered step back, but the man standing behind him places a hand on his shoulder and forces him back down.

“It’s not a lie,” the second Weasley states, much more calmly than his, I’m assuming, brother. The red hair and freckles really are a giveaway, although this Weasley boy wears his in a long ponytail and has a golden stud in one ear.

“Fred died in the battle at Hogwarts,” a bushy haired brunette girl (obviously not related) explains looking confused as to why I’m even there. I frown at all of them. They all look fully serious and maybe a little pained and angry to be having this conversation at all. This only adds to my confusion.

“But… But the Ministry would _know_ ,” I repeat. They all stare wordlessly at me so I continue slowly. “As I’m sure you all know, when a wizard dies his name gets wiped off the Book of Registered Wizards. So if his name isn’t in the book anymore how would they match me with him?” I ask, holding up the official match designation form with Fred’s name and photo. They gape wordlessly between the parchment in my hand and a matching one in front of Mrs. Weasley that appears to have my photo on it and then all hell breaks loose.

An older balding man, Mr. Weasley, shoves past everyone and runs to the floo closely followed by a stuck up Gryffindor I remember being Head Boy in my 6th year. Petey, or something like that. I’m bad with names. They each grab some powder and shout out “Ministry of Magic”, one after the other, before disappearing with a whoosh of green flames.

Mrs. Weasley has collapsed into her chair and seems to be on the verge of passing out. The boy with the ponytail is trying to calm her which is not helped by formerly-angry-Weasley-girl beside them chanting “ _Oh_ my Godric. Oh my _Godric_ ,” over and over again with varying inflections. The bushy haired girl is rapidly speaking to Harry Potter and a tall gangly Weasley boy, but I can’t hear what it is over the indecipherable yelling coming from every single corner of the room.

It’s a lot like how it was when I first walked in, only now everyone looks rather pale and panicked rather than red and angry. I catch a few key phrases like, “That explains the letter!” and “Then where is he?”

I feel a set of eyes on me and my gaze is drawn to the boy I assumed was Fred Weasley.

I now belated remember that there is a set of twins in the Weasley family. Fred Weasley must be half of it and this boy the other half. Furthermore, I remember a lot of gossip about the infamous jokester Weasley Twins in Gryffindor in the year below me at Hogwarts. Ugh. Is it too much to hope that there are _two_ sets of Weasley Twins? For my own sanity I’m going to go with the answer no. No, it’s not.

The Fred Weasley look alike is staring at me with an unreadable expression. It could be some muted, washed out form of curiosity, but I’m not entirely sure.  I look away. I just wish he would blink or start freaking out like the rest of his family. Although seriously, I’m not sure they could get any louder. I thought _my_ family was bad. There’s even a vaguely familiar blonde girl jabbering fearfully in what seems to be French, although I can’t be certain.

The chaos continues for several minutes and I’m just considering slipping out and going home when the fireplace flares up bright green and Mr. Weasley rushes out looking pale, disheveled, and leaving a trail of ash behind him.

“It’s true!” he cries over all the hullabaloo as Petey tumbles out of the fireplace behind him looking shell shocked. “He’s alive!”

 


	2. Cora Rivers

Currently, I’m lying on my bed in my childhood home contemplating my life and how it got so topsy-turvy. I’ve always lived a fairly mundane existence and I’ve liked it that way. Well... Mundane aside from finding out my siblings and I are magical and then that time we had to move to France for a year because the war got too bad for us to stay safely in Britain. Otherwise it’s been downright dull.

Oh right. You don’t know much about me, do you? My name is Cora Rivers. I’m a muggleborn. I have dirty blonde hair and brown eyes just like my mum. Everyone always says we look just alike. I have three siblings Jonathan, Rylie, and Sebastian whom I love dearly even if they do drive me mad half the time.

I have a loving mother and father who were stunned, but excited to find out that their eldest son, Jon is a wizard. Professor McGonagall, Hogwarts’ Deputy Headmistress, came to our house herself and broke the news to them. It took a moment for the shock to settle, but once it did they both immediately agreed that sending him to Hogwarts was the most logical decision. Neither of them cared much for the idea of boarding school, but they didn’t really have any other choice.

The next 15 months until my 11th birthday were probably the longest of my life. Jon came back from Hogwarts the next summer spouting off all sorts of wondrous stories about moving staircases, trick steps, walls pretending to be doors, and the talking door knocker that tells riddles you have to answer to get into the Ravenclaw tower, his house. He showed us chocolate frog cards and explained that in the Wizarding world pictures move.

Three short months later he was gone again to his second year at Hogwarts and I continued waiting anxiously for my turn. Logically I knew I showed the signs of having magical blood in me (I once tripped my sister Rylie without touching her… We didn’t always get along as kids), but I still worried a little. Regardless, I received my letter right on time, November 28th, mine and Seb’s birthday. Not that we’re twins. He was actually born four years after me, just on the same date I was. Weird, right?

I begged and begged to go to Diagon Alley after I got my letter and get at least my wand even though I wouldn’t be getting the supply list until summer. Finally my parents agreed. 10 and a quarter inches mahogany with dragon heartstring and good for charms work. I was warned that it could be a bit stubborn on some things, but once I’d earned its loyalty it would never waver. I’m incredibly attached to that silly stick of wood.

Anyway, so when I finally made it to Hogwarts I was sorted into Hufflepuff. The hat said I had a good bit of every house in me, but that it thought I’d do best with the badgers. Two years later was Rylie’s first year and she was sorted (after an eternity) into Hufflepuff with me and two years after that Seb, my younger brother, was sorted into Gryffindor. So all together my siblings and I make up the Hogwarts houses. Except Slytherin of course. I think we all failed on that pesky blood purity qualification.

My years at Hogwarts were for the most part pretty tame. The worst year by far being my 5th year when The Chamber of Secrets was opened. Imagine your O.W.L. year and teachers are dumping loads of homework on you and the whole time all you can focus on is making sure you and your siblings survive the year. Of course it would be my luck that the only year all four of us are at Hogwarts at the same time a muggleborn killing monster is set loose in the school.

Poor Seb was only a first year. But honestly I’m glad it was him just starting and not Rylie. He’s tough whereas Rylie was a terrified mess without also having first year nerves on top of it all. She was driving me mad that year. I half wished the monster would just petrify me so I wouldn’t have to deal with her. But of course my sense of responsibility kept me taking care of her and trying to get her to chill out.

I’ve always been the one looking out for my siblings. Mostly the younger two, but Jon sometimes too. I’ve always felt like the oldest, probably because Jon tends to just float around in his own little world.

After I graduated I made the snap decision to go into Magical Law Enforcement rather than try my hand at Experimental Charms like I’d been intending. I guess Cedric Diggory’s sudden death spurred that choice. I felt I had to help people somehow. He was in my year. We weren’t friends. At all. In fact I thought he was rather annoying, but that doesn’t mean he deserved to die. I suppose you can chalk it up to that Hufflepuff loyalty thing that everyone goes on about.

I ended up as an assistant to an Auror, a bloke named Kingsley Shacklebolt. Yeah the guy who was just the temporary Minister of Magic. I didn’t want to actually be fighting (I have siblings who need me after all), but I wanted to help. So I stayed in Kingsley’s office and prepared reports using his notes on cases and made sure he was where he was needed when he was needed. Sometimes he even asked for my opinion on cases and things when he got stuck.

I became an invaluable asset when he was assigned as a bodyguard to the muggle Prime Minister a year after I’d started working for him. Any assignment the Prime Minister gave him he’d pass on to me and I’d whip it up lickety-split. It was imperative that the Prime Minister want to keep him around. It was all good while it lasted.

It was Kingsley who told me to get my family and get out of the country when the Ministry fell. He knew we wouldn’t be safe with Voldemort in charge. I owe him for my life and the lives of my family. No doubt all of my siblings and I, and possibly my parents, would have been rounded up and murdered had we stuck around for the Muggleborn Registration garbage.

That was when we moved to France. My parents weren’t too thrilled to have to leave their jobs on such short notice, but they understood to some extent the severity of the situation. I’d been warding their house and keeping them updated on the war since the day I came home after Cedric was murdered.

A long, tedious almost year was spent in France. I tried learning French, but failed miserably. During the nine loooonnnnng months of my exile I received 4 letters from Kingsley and one surprise visit from my best friend Samantha and her parents who were “vacationing in France for the Christmas holiday” as far as anyone else was concerned. The first letter Kingsley sent me came to let me know about the taboo on Voldemort’s name. The second was about the Muggleborn Registration and to tell me that now they’d be looking for me and all of my siblings since we didn’t show up to register. The third came in March to let me know that Harry Potter had been grabbed by snatchers, but got away and was still alive and fighting.

The fourth letter came on May 2nd at 2:48am. Kingsley’s letters had all been brief, to the point, and written in his short hand that only he and I properly understood. But this one was the shortest of all and the short hand and code words had been done away with. It simply said, “The end is happening now at Hogwarts.”

I remember staring at it for a moment and then cursing Kingsley. He knew my loyalty and sense of duty wouldn’t let me stay away if I knew it was happening. He knew I’d have to go and help even though I wasn’t the best fighter. I remember waking up my family and us all gathering in the living room. I remember telling them that I loved them and that there was a chance that I wouldn’t make it back but I would fight like hell to make sure I would. I remember getting a fierce hug from my dad who looked sad yet extremely proud. Next was my mum crying and hugging me goodbye, but restraining herself from asking me to stay. She knew I wouldn’t.

I remember Seb, furious that I refused to let him come and Rylie sobbing tears of fear and frustration that I was forcing her to stay behind as well even though she was of age. I wasn’t chancing my siblings’ lives. I remember Jon hugging me goodbye and wishing me luck and skill. I smiled weakly. I knew he wouldn’t try to come. He was too logical and knew that he was no good at physical anything let alone fighting and that him being there would only distract me with worry. I ordered him to stun the other two if they tried to follow and then I walked out to the alley behind the dingy townhouse we were renting and apparated to Hogsmeade.

Hogsmeade was abandoned at the time. The caterwauling charm wailed unchecked. I remember running up to the castle and the chaos everywhere. The fight already long begun. The rest is a blur. I let instinct take over and keep me alive. I tried to keep to the sidelines as much as possible and avoid one-on-one fights. I’m no good at those.

I know that hours later when Voldemort called a retreat I was tired and covered in dirt, sweat, and blood that I wasn’t sure belonged to me or someone else. I remember wanting nothing more than to sleep, but instead sucking it up and helping to move bodies of the fallen and injured into the Great Hall. I remember holding a girl who was about Seb’s age in her final moments out on the front lawn of the school and crying over her body when her final breath crossed her lips. Her name was Sally-Anne Perks. I later went to her funeral…

I shake the old and yet fresh memories from my mind and roll off my bed, onto my feet. I know if I dwell on them too long I’ll be lost in a cloud of darkness for the rest of the day and that can’t happen. My parents and I have been invited to dinner at the Weasley’s in an hour and I’m prepared for a tense evening. I’m not sure how it’s supposed to go over with Fred Weasley being missing, but Mrs. Weasley felt she should get to know me and my parents a bit while the Aurors are trying to find out what happened to him and where he is now.

So my muggle parents and I are going over to the obviously magical home of my betrothed who has been assumed dead for the past two months and is currently missing and who was picked for me by a ministry that is forcing three of my parent’s four children to marry strangers. If that doesn’t scream AWKWARD then I don’t know what does.

Regardless, I put on some clean jeans and a nice top, throw my dirty blonde hair into a ponytail and head downstairs to wait for my parents. I plop onto the couch and lay down with a book. My dad comes down the hall a moment later tying a tie around his neck and the moment he sets eyes on me he raises his eyebrows.

“That’s what you’re wearing?” he asks. I turn my nose up at him.

“Yes,” I sniff. He deliberates with himself for a moment and then shrugs.

“They’re your future in-laws,” he says with a joking grin. I glare at him.

“Whatever,” I grumble and try to hide my own grin. At least no matter what happens with the Weasleys I’ll always have my own awesome parents. I settle into my book and half an hour later my mother comes down the hall.

“That’s what you’re wearing?” she asks. I roll my eyes.

“Hey, I put on a nice shirt,” I say indignantly, poking at the green fabric. Why is everyone so against my outfit? Jeez. She shakes her head and turns away to get her shoes from the hall closet without another word.

“Are you ready?” she asks once her shoes are on. I sigh heavily.

“As I’ll ever be,” I reply tonelessly.

“It’ll all work out,” she says though her brow is crinkled with concern. I press my lips together and don’t respond. I think I’d rather be a Tri-Wizard Champion than go through with this unwanted marriage. And I didn’t even want to be a champion before I saw what the tasks were.

I set aside my book as my dad emerges from the kitchen with the bottle of wine they bought for Mr. and Mrs. Weasley and together we all approach the fireplace. I coach them through how to floo one more time because it’s been awhile since they last had to and then I’m whirling through warm flames on my way to The Burrow.

 


	3. The Burrow

I step out of the fireplace and into the warm sitting room of The Burrow.

“Welcome back, Cora was it?” Mr. Weasley has been waiting for me it seems. I can hear clattering noises coming from the kitchen telling me that Mrs. Weasley is finishing up with cooking dinner. Otherwise the house is eerily quiet compared to three days ago when I was here last.

“Yes, Cora Rivers,” I introduce myself properly and shake Mr. Weasley’s hand.

“Arthur Weasley,” he responds happily. “Is it true your parents are-?”

His question is interrupted when the fireplace glows green and spits out my mother. She stumbles, but Mr. Weasley and I catch her before she can hit the floor and then we quickly pull her out of the way as my father blunders out behind her. I sigh. He didn’t wait long enough again.

“I will never get used to floo travel,” my mom says, getting to her feet looking flustered. “Oh look at us! We’re covered in soot!” she cries, brushing at my dad’s shirt.

“Don’t worry about it mum,” I say as I flick my wand causing the ash to be swept from our bodies as though by a stiff wind and gathered into a floating sphere. A slight twist of my wrist and then the ball of soot folds in on itself and vanishes. My mom smiles gratefully and rolls her eyes at my showmanship at the same time.

“Muggles!” Arthur Weasley seems unable to contain himself any longer and eagerly shakes hands with each of my parents. “I’m Arthur Weasley. So pleased to meet you both. Simply delighted! Now, can you tell me-?”

“ARTHUR!” Mrs. Weasley has appeared in the doorway to the room looking as formidable as a hurricane to a glass house. “You leave those poor folks alone! I won’t have you interrogating them during my dinner!” Arthur appears abashed and grins weakly at his wife.

“Sorry dear.”

My mum smiles in amusement at the exchange while my dad stares curiously around the room, no doubt looking for evidence of magic. I have a feeling that he and Mr. Weasley will prove to be quite the pair. I can’t wait. Please note the sarcasm.

“I’m Anita Rivers and this is my husband Steve. Pleasure to meet you,” mum introduces herself and my dad to Mr. and Mrs. Weasley.

“Molly Weasley, please call me Molly. That goes for you as well dear,” she says with a warm smile towards me. I smile back and nod, but can’t help but think that this is all to compensate for how I saw the family acting last time I was here. Dad gives the Weasleys the bottle of wine we brought and Mr. Weasley goes gaga over it while Mrs. Weasley looks at it a bit dubiously. Mrs. Weasley then leads us into the kitchen where she puts away the wine and then continues on straight out the back door and into the garden. Then I realize why the house is so quiet. Everyone is out here.

“We were a bit tight on space in the kitchen so we set up out here. I hope you don’t mind,” Mrs. Weasley says smiling self-consciously. Dad beams at her.

“Of course not! How could we complain about dinner in the fresh air and sunshine?” he says. Mum nods in agreement while I watch the chaos before me. I count the people crowding the table and come away with five red heads and five non-Weasleys. Adding in my family and the two elder Weasley’s that brings the total to 15. Yeah it was a good move to tell my parents that we should wait to bring my siblings just yet.

In what seems to be the typical Weasley fashion everyone is talking over everyone else and laughing and joking. This doesn’t bother me. Remember I have a family of six. I’m no stranger to noise. It’s how close knit they all seem. I can’t see myself genuinely included in this group. I don’t see a spot for me here.

“Settle down you lot,” Mrs. Weasley commandeers her troops. “ _Now_.” The tall gangly Weasley drops the carrot he was trying to shove up his sister’s nose and then his ears flush red when he sees us standing here.

“Introductions,” Mrs. Weasley says, clapping her hands together briskly. “Everyone this is Mr. and Mrs. Rivers and their daughter Cora, Fred’s match. And this is Bill, Fleur, Hermione, Ron, Ginny, Harry, Percy, Penelope, George, and Angelina.”

I try to commit the names to memory, but I know the attempt is futile. I have no memory for names. We sit down across from Fleur (who now I remember was the Beauxbatons Champion in the Triwizard Tournament) and the ponytailed Weasley who I think was Bill? Soon he and my dad are discussing the differences between muggle and wizard currencies and my mom has engaged Fleur in a conversation about the various wonderful things in France. My mum fell in love with the culture during our stay there.

Dinner goes well enough at first. The girl beside me, Angelina Johnson (she reintroduced herself thank goodness), tries to engage me in a conversation about Quidditch, but that only lasts so long. Not that I don’t like Quidditch, I just don’t _follow_ Quidditch if you get what I mean. I don’t know players and statistics and moves and whatever else.

Hermione talks to me for a bit about muggle books that we each enjoy, but it turns out that she’s more into classics while I’m into modern fiction and murder mysteries. Mostly I just eat my food (which is _delicious_ ) and listen to the conversations going on around me. The only person besides me who doesn’t seem to have much to say is George, the one I accused of being Fred Weasley. I made a special effort to remember his name since he’s the identical twin of my match. I figure he’s kind of important to remember. I can’t say I blame him though for not talking much. I can’t even imagine losing one of my siblings. Losing your _twin_ must be devastating.

Instead of engaging in small talk I listen and gather information about the people around me. I know that sounds kinda creepy, but it makes me more comfortable to know things about the people I’m with and then I’m more likely to open up. It doesn’t have to be anything profound. Like for instance, Ron hates brussel sprouts and Angelina thinks the Wimbourne Wasps suck and Percy (not Petey. Oops) is allergic to dust.

And all of them have been matched with people they not only know and like, but people that they were already entertaining a thought of at least dating before the law got passed. Ron and Hermione. Harry and Ginny. Percy and Penelope. Only George and Angelina am I unsure about, but they certainly seem to know each other already at least.

Then disaster strikes just before dessert. Okay, maybe I’m being dramatic. But the mood certainly gets taken down a few notches and then blown to smithereens.

“That was delicious Mrs. Weasley,” I say earnestly after I’ve scraped the last of my mashed potatoes off my plate and swallowed them down.

“Why thank you dear.” She beams looking pleased. “But I’ve told you, call me Molly. Although soon you’ll have to call me mum you know.”

She says it playfully, but that doesn’t stop the lead rock that suddenly drops in my gut and the nausea spreading from it. I try to play it off as nothing and smile, but my lips are pressed together so tightly that I’m sure it doesn’t come off right. Mrs. Weasley’s face falls as she realizes that she misspoke and an uncomfortable silence falls over the table as everyone stops their conversations to watch us.

“Oh I’m so sorry-,” Mrs. Weasley starts, but I cut her off with a firm shake of my head.

“No.” I clear my throat when my voice comes out shaky. “No it’s fine. You’re fine. You didn’t- I’m alright. I’m fine,” I reassure her. I hang my head so my face is down towards my plate, sure it will give my true colors away. I pick up my fork and then set it back down. I wish I had more food on my plate to distract me from the uncomfortable tension. Not that I’d be able to swallow it past the giant lump in my throat.

“How about dessert!” Mrs. Weasley jumps to her feet, clearly trying to return the previous light atmosphere. It works somewhat. Everyone strikes up conversations, but I can feel their eyes on me. I notice my hands are shaking and drop them to my lap to hide them. Mrs. Weasley come around with some chocolate cake and drops a generous slice onto my plate.

Everyone digs into their dessert, but I can’t do it. The lump in my throat has grown bigger and my breathing is uneven. Pressure is building behind my eyes. I can’t. I can’t do this. Suddenly my entire situation is completely overwhelming me. I shove my chair away from the table and once again everyone stops what they’re doing to stare at me.

Mrs. Weasley opens her mouth but I put up a shaky hand.

“I just need a moment,” I mumble in a frail kind of voice that I’ve never used before.

“Cora,” Mum starts. I should tell you now. I hardly ever cry and _never_ in public. There are a lot of things I can handle without losing my calm, but as it turns out this is not one of them.

“I can’t do this mum!” I yell. My voice cracks and a couple traitorous tears escape. I swipe at them furiously; hating them for their very presence and hating myself for being so weak and letting them escape in front of people. Mum starts to get up, but dad puts a hand on her shoulder and shakes his head.

“I can’t just sit here and eat cake when my whole life has been stolen and decided for me! Where’s my choice? What happened to my freedom? I can’t just go with the flow this time! I just _can’t_ ,” I cry and then turn on my heel and storm away. I smear away more tears that have leaked unbidden down my cheeks and keep walking. I don’t know where I’m going, just away and hopefully somewhere private so I can get my crap together.

“Just give her some time to herself. She’ll be alright,” I hear my dad say behind me.

I keep walking, heading for the road. When I reach it I turn left and just keep walking and wiping my face, trying to muffle the sobs ripping at my throat.

It’s not fair. It’s just not fair. As much as I detest those words I think they fully apply to this situation. Sometimes life just sucks. That’s what I told my siblings that year the Chamber of Secrets opened and that’s what I told them when we were forced to drop our lives and move to France and then again when I left them behind to fight in the battle at Hogwarts.

Sometimes life just sucks. Those words would definitely cover all of this, but at least all those other times it was temporary. I have to live with this for the rest of my life! There is no just sucking it up until it’s over.

Honestly, I don’t even know how to deal with this. I stop walking when my legs start to ache and I can no longer see The Burrow. I plop down in the grass beside an old weeping willow off to the side of the road and just breathe for a moment. I run my hand through the stringy tendrils hanging down from the tree and focus on how the green leaves feel whispering across my fingers and try not to think.

On a whim I tug three strands down and start braiding them together. I make two bracelets from the braided strand and put one on each wrist. The left one is pretty loose, but I think it’ll stay on. I stand up and dust off my back side before leaving the tree’s enclosure. I glance around and see nothing except endless road, distant bushes, and my tree. The sun has set and there’s a chill to the air, but it doesn’t bother me. The sound of cicadas and faraway bullfrogs soothes me like a lullaby.

I’m calm now, but not ready to go back. I’m not ready for the stares and the questions and the embarrassment of completely losing it in front of a bunch of strangers.

“UGH!”

I sigh heavily and try not to focus on how mortified I feel all of the sudden. Instead I gather some decent sized pieces of gravel from the road and start throwing them as close to the bushes across the road and then back a ways as I can. I know I'm stalling, but I can't seem to help myself. It’s hard to see in the dark, but the rocks are white and I make it work. It becomes a bit of a game and after a while I’m tired and sweaty, but feeling better.

“Yes!” I laugh as I hit my target and fist-pump my victory.

“Nice shot.”

I jump about a mile in the air, dropping the rocks I’d been holding and I whirl around to face the speaker. It’s George Weasley.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it kind of seems like she's overreacting here, but she's in the middle of a meltdown so you'll have to forgive her. She'll be a bit off the wall the next few chapters, but she'll level out after that. She's kind of going through a major life altering event. ;)
> 
> Hope everyone likes it!


	4. George Weasley

“How long have you been there?” is the first thing that pops out of my mouth. He looks faintly amused just standing in the middle of the road with his hands in his pockets. He shrugs in response to my question and chooses not to answer.

“Were you planning on coming back?” he asks gazing determinedly at my face. I sigh deeply and look away.

“Yeah,” I tell him reluctantly.

“You’ve got mum in a right tizzy,” he says nonchalantly. I grimace and finger one of my leaf bracelets.

“I’m sorry,” I tell him. “That was really out of character for me. Really. I swear I’m not usually such a… such a…”

“Drama queen?” he supplies helpfully. I snort and grin a bit.

“I was thinking cry baby, but that too.” He smiles and it’s the first time I’ve seen him do it. It brightens up his whole face. He’s got a nice smile I decide. It’s there and then it’s gone again much too quickly.

“Mum thinks you hate us,” he says conversationally. I purse my lips and crinkle my nose.

“I don’t hate anyone,” I tell him. “It’s got nothing to do with you guys at all really. It’s just that…”

“They took away your choice,” he fills in for me, obviously having paid attention to my outburst earlier.

“Exactly!” I exclaim, all of the earlier frustration returning. “This is supposed to be one of the two big decisions in my life. The person I _bond_ myself to for the _rest of my life_ should be _my_ choice! The only people involved should be me and the other person. Not some control happy bimbo in the Ministry who gets her jollies by screwing up other peoples’ lives.”

I was so consumed in my rant and the anger and frustration pumping through my veins that it takes me a moment to notice George is snickering. I glare at him.

“Control happy bimbo,” he says, grinning and snickering still. My lips quirk slightly into an almost smile and I shrug.

“Well it’s accurate,” I defend.

“That’s why it’s so funny,” George tells me.

We fall into silence for a few moments and then George steps off the road and lies down in the ditch wordlessly patting the spot of grass beside him for me to join him. I hesitate and he just folds his arms behind him head and gazes up at the sky as he waits for me. I sigh silently and shuffle my way down beside him (a healthy foot and a half away, don’t worry) and mimic his pose. I lift my eyes up to the sky and barely restrain a gasp.

“Wow,” I say, awestruck. You definitely don’t see these kinds of stars in town. The sky is full to the bursting with sparkling little white lights. Billions and trillions of them. A million tiny suns in the sky…

“Angelina is Fred’s ex-girlfriend,” George suddenly says, out of the blue. I turn to him in surprise. He continues staring up at the stars with a slight frown tugging down his lips and his brow furrowed.

“Oh,” I say, unsure of what else there is to say. “Well that super sucks.”

George snorts and finally turns to me and gives me a wry grin.

“Doesn’t it?” His grin turns bitter and he turns his face back to the sky. His lanky hair moves away from his face and my eyes widen at the dark hole in the side of his head where his ear should be. I open my mouth and then quickly shut it again and turn away. _You can’t just ask someone why they’re missing an ear Cora_ , I berate myself. It’s hard to quench my curiosity though. We’re silent for a few minutes before he speaks again.

“What’s the second big choice?” he asks.

“What?” I’m obviously not following his train of thought. Probably because I’m distracted thinking about how he could have possibly lost his ear.

“When you were ranting earlier you said that there are two big choices in life. What’s the other one?”

“Oh,” I say. “Career choice. That one didn’t go like it was supposed to either, but I guess in the end I like how it turned out anyway,” I say with a small smile. I actually do miss my job. And even Kingsley... I turn towards George to find that he’s already watching me, searching my face for something.

“Well maybe we’ll like how all this turns out in the end too,” he says. I smile sadly in return.

“Hopefully,” I say without really any hope.

Without another word he gets to his feet and offers me a hand up. I’m feeling charitable so I accept it. I brush myself off, hoping I won’t look too much like a mess when we get back to The Burrow.

“Milady,” George says, offering me the crook of his arm. I snort and smirk at the offer.

“Race you there,” I challenge instead and then twist on my heel and disapparate with a pop. I reappear an instant later just outside the front gate to The Burrow. I don’t waste a moment and vault over the gate. The second my feet hit the dirt I hear a crack behind me. I don’t bother turning to look and sprint for the house, kicking up dirt in my wake.

Unfortunately I’ve always been a slow runner. Ten feet from the door a hand snags my arm and spins me around. I stumble trying to keep my footing while George jets past me and slams a hand against the door.

“Ha! I win!” he crows with a huge grin. I grin myself just seeing it. It’s much more natural than the serious expression he’s worn the majority of the time that I’ve seen him.

“You even had a head start and I won!” he taunts.

“You’ve got longer legs than me!” I complain. It’s my go-to excuse in the case of leg races or anywhere it applies really. George laughs loudly.

“Hardly!”

I look him over and have to concede the point. He’s only got maybe an inch or two on me. Time for a new tactic.

“Well then you cheated! Interference when you grabbed my arm!” I insist stubbornly, crossing my arms over my chest and tipping my nose up at him. He laughs again.

“Bulloc-!”

“George!”

George nearly falls on his arse when Mrs. Weasley suddenly whips open the door he’s been leaning on to scold him for his language. I manage to muffle my snicker, but he still glares at me although still grinning slightly. Mrs. Weasley ushers the two of us into the house and towards the sound of voices coming from the sitting room.

As I follow behind her down the hallway my feelings of embarrassment and dread return and the silly mood I’d fallen into with George fades away.

At least it does until George gives me a wet willy.

Acting on instinct I curse loudly and slap his hand away and then kick him in the shin.

“OUCH! Bloody hell woman! There’s no need for violence!” George yells hopping on one foot and clutching his injured leg.

“I beg to differ!” I shout while using the shoulder of my shirt to try and get his saliva out of my ear. Yuck. “And I’m a violent person. You’d better get used to it. You’re just as stuck with me as I am with you.”

“Ugh. You’re right. Poor Fred,” George groans as he lifts his pant leg to examine the afflicted area while leaning against the hallway wall. He gives the spot an experimental poke and winces. “Poor _me_. That’s gonna bruise.”

I ignore his final remark.

“Yeah poor Fred,” I snort. “Welcome home Freddie!” I say, putting on a fake high pitched voice. “We’re so glad you’re not dead! Oh, by the way, we betrothed you to some girl you’ve never met before while you were gone and your wedding is set for some time within the next month. _Surprise!_ ”

George laughs loudly.

“Yeah and the brilliant part is that he’s going to think I’m just trying to prank him!” he manages to get out while still laughing.

I grin a bit as he calms down and then we finally enter the sitting room. I hesitate in the doorway.

If George was trying to distract me from feeling embarrassed or nervous he’d succeeded, but now I’m the center of attention and everyone is just staring at me and the feelings are back. Seriously, they’re all just staring at me like I’m an alien or something. But I do figure I owe them all an apology.

“Umm, sorry guys,” I start lamely, awkwardly shuffling my feet in place and picking at my bracelet again. Now that I’m seeing them (the bracelets) in the light I realize how truly ugly they are. “That was out of line earlier and I don’t have anything against any of you it’s just that the situation kind of overwhelmed me a bit.”

“Oh it’s quite alright dear,” Mrs. Weasley says from where she’s standing by the fireplace mantle looking teary. “Nothing to forgive. We understand of course.” She turns slightly and discretely wipes at her eyes. In an instant everyone joins in expressing the uneededness of their forgiveness. I just smile vaguely and walk over to where my parents are seated. They rise to stand with me, clearly ready to leave.

I’m still staring around the room though and trying to figure out what is going on. Mrs. Weasley is definitely battling tears and I know they aren’t because I delivered such a beautiful, heartfelt apology. And while everyone has been very nice since meeting me, they haven’t exactly been this warm and accepting. They were more curious and withholding judgment.

I catch sight of George on the other side of the room and he looks… irritated. That’s strange. He was fine a second ago. And beside him Angelina looks annoyed as well. Everyone else though looks positively cheerful. So if George and Angelina are both upset, but the family is happy then whatever caused the shift must have something to do with George. I haven’t the foggiest what though. This family just doesn’t make sense.

“I’m taking Angelina home,” George grumbles, meanwhile Angelina is standing behind him looking anywhere but at me. The family says their goodbyes and Mrs. Weasley pulls him into a tearful, rib cracking hug that he does his best to get out of.

“Geroff mum! I’ll see you this weekend.”

Mrs. Weasley reluctantly lets him go and just as he and Angelina are about to exit the room George pauses.

“See you Cora,” he says before turning again and leaving.

“See you,” I reply duly, still confused on what just happened. We wait in an awkwardish kind of quiet until the front door shuts behind them on their way out. Then Mrs. Weasley throws herself at me and I’m subjected to the same tearful and bone breaking hug that she inflicted upon her son. I pat her awkwardly even as I run out of air. Finally she lets go and I greedily gulp down the oxygen I’d been deprived of.

“What was all that?” I wheeze.

“Oh we’re just so grateful, dear. You’ll be a wonderful addition to the family,” Mrs. Weasley gushes. … _What?_

“George hasn’t laughed like that since Fred…” Percy trails off looking distraught.

“I wasn’t trying to make him laugh,” I try to explain. “It just happened.” They don’t appear to be listening. Bill thumps me on the back and grins at me.

“You’ll be good for Fred,” he says. They definitely aren’t listening.

“What?” I ask.

“You’ll have to keep the two of them from blowing themselves up in the shop of course, but I think you’re up for the task,” Ginny tells me with a smirk.

“Blowing up-? Shop? What?” My sputtered protests go ignored once again.

“And don’t let them pressure you into being a test subject for their pranks,” Hermione warns.

“Just watch out for their pranks in general,” Ron adds seriously.

“They can be pretty sneaky,” Harry says.

Then there is a whirl of farewells and me and my parents are ushered into the fireplace and back home. I tumble out of the fireplace and collapse onto the couch immediately, staring in stunned disbelief at the ceiling.

I think I’ve just been inducted into the Weasley family.

 

 


	5. Finding Fred Weasley

Please. Just do me a favor and kill me now. A nice Avada Kedavra should do it. Quick and painless. Oh yes. I’m quite sure. Don’t hesitate. _Anything_ would be better than this.

“ _Cora, are you even listening to me?_ ”

I straighten up in my seat at the kitchen table and try to discreetly wipe the drool from my chin and paste an innocent expression on my face.

“Course I am sister dearest! Wouldn’t miss a single detail,” I mutter the last part sarcastically under my breath. Of course Rylie still hears and glares at me over her stack of muggle and magical wedding magazines.

“Cora can you just be serious for once! This is important!” Rylie’s cheeks are pink and her eyes are just a slight bit too shiny. I drop the facade immediately. The last thing I need is to try and console a weepy over emotional Rylie. She’s already been on edge since the marriage law passed, not that I can blame her. Really the only difference between me and Rylie is that she’s _happy_ about her match.

“Alright. I’m sorry,” I tell her earnestly if somewhat reluctantly. “What were you saying about napkin designs?”

Rylie’s face flushes again only this time she’s angry.

“Cora! That was 20 minutes ago! Now I have to go back through silverware, centerpieces, boutonnières, _and_ favors!”

I groan and slump down in my seat. Me and my big mouth. Rylie tosses aside several magazines that she’s circled items for her wedding in and fishes out several more from the bottom of the pile. I groan again and she sends me a death glare.

Just then I catch a glint of silver through the window over the sink out of the corner of my eye. That’s odd. Our kitchen faces the backyard so it’s not like it’s just a car that drove by. I turn to the window just as a silvery fox leaps through the glass like a ghost and lands soundlessly in the center of the kitchen.

I jump horribly at the surprise of it and I’m guessing Rylie does too because she knocks half of her magazines to the floor.

“What is that?!” she shrieks.

“It’s a Patronus!” I say, squinting at it. “But I don’t know what it’s-,”

Then the fox’s mouth opens and George’s voice comes pouring out of it, apparently incredibly excited. Maybe a bit _too_ excited.

“ _WE’VE FOUND FRED! WE’RE GOING TO GET HIM! COME TO THE BURROW! NOW!_ ”

I gape at the place where the fox stood even after it’s dissolved into a fine mist.

“How did he do that?” I exclaim, gesturing to the long gone fox. Rylie is still rubbing her ears and looking a mixture of irritated and bewildered.

“I don’t know, but that sounded important. You should probably go,” she says frowning down at her magazines.

“But how did he _do_ that?” I persist. “Have you ever heard of a way to make your Patronus talk? I haven’t!”

“I don’t _know_ Cora. How about you go ask _him_ ,” Rylie snaps. This time I cotton on to her obvious disappointment as she gloomily stacks her magazines back up. I frown. I know I was just thinking I’d rather die than sit through anymore of her wedding talk, but I can’t just leave her like this. I sigh internally at what I’m about to do.

“You can come with,” I offer nonchalantly. Rylie’s head pops up at me, her eyes wide.

“Really?” she asks hopefully. I shrug.

“Sure why not? I’ll probably just be sitting around bored waiting for them to get back with Freddy-boy anyhow,” I explain.

“Are you sure you want me there?” she asks. “They’re your future in-laws after all.”

The phrase turns my stomach, but I grin through it.

“Course I’m sure. Now get your stuff and I’ll leave a note for mum.”

Five minutes later there’s a sticky note on the fridge explaining our sudden absence, Rylie has a large tote jam packed with magazines on her shoulder, and we’re strolling up the front walk to The Burrow (thankfully the chickens are put away this time). It’s been about a week since I was here last, although not for Mrs. Weasley’s lack of trying. The excuse that I’ve been helping my siblings prepare for their respective weddings has been dropped quite a lot.

“Wow. That’s er- Some house,” Rylie says eyeing the house distrustfully.

“It’s insane right?” I say grinning up at the anomaly. It’s kinda starting to grow on me. But don’t tell anyone.

“Insane is one word for it,” Rylie mutters, swiping a short stray brunette curl back behind her ear. She got dad’s brown hair and green eyes. Lucky girl. “You’re sure it’s not going to collapse on us?”

“Well it hasn’t yet, has it?” I say cheerfully, bumping her with my shoulder. Why am I so cheerful you ask? Well for one, I’ve got my sister with me as a buffer between me and The Weasleys and most importantly Fred once he’s here. And two, there’s no way she’ll be able to get through those magazines in the typical Weasley chaos.

“That’s not exactly reassuring Cor,” Rylie says with an annoyed scowl in my direction. I roll my eyes as we step up to the door.

“Have a little faith in magic _Ry_ ,” I tell her as I knock. I don’t even have a moment to brace myself before the door is whipped open and I’m forcibly dragged into the house leaving Rylie bewildered on the doorstep with the door slammed shut in her face.

“Cora you’re here! Finally! What took you so long!? The Aurors found Fred! We’re going to go get him! He’s in some muggle place so I figured you could come along and help us get him out and you’ll have to meet him sometime anyway so I figured why not-,”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa! I can’t just _go get him_!” I finally manage to wrench my arm out of George’s grasp. He looks like a kicked puppy. I stalk back to the door, fling it open, grab a stunned Rylie, tug her in behind me, and then slam the door shut again. George follows my every move.

“What do you mean?” he asks looking wounded. “And who’s this?”

“My sister Rylie. I brought her to keep me company while _you guys_ go get Fred,” I explain crossly. I stop in the entryway waiting for him to lead the way into the rest of the house, but he doesn’t.

“Why don’t you want to come?” George asks without so much as greeting poor Rylie. Talk about a one track mind. I throw my hands up in exasperation.

“Why would I want to come?! I don’t even know the guy!” I exclaim.

“You know me! It’s like the same thing,” George says dismissively.

“George I’ve only known you for like an hour interaction-wise! I’d hardly call that knowing a person,” I refute.

George ignores me and grabs my arm to tug me further into the house. I grab onto Rylie’s so she doesn’t get left behind again. We end up in the sitting room which is empty except for Mr. and Mrs. Weasley who are speaking to each other in hushed tones with anxious, but excited expressions. Everyone else must be either at work or out. It is a weekday after all. As soon as we enter the room they stop speaking mid sentence and turn to us.

“Cora! Oh good you’re here. Are you ready to leave?” Mr. Weasley asks.

“No,” I reply, but Mrs. Weasley catches sight of Rylie coming in behind me and interrupts.

“Oh who’s this?” she asks nicely. I step further into the room and aside so they can see each other better and make my introductions.

“Mrs. Weasley this is my sister Rylie. Rylie this is Mr. and Mrs. Weasley. Oh and George. Fred’s twin.”

“Nice to meet you,” Rylie tells them. Then she turns to me. “You didn’t tell me that Fred has a twin.”

George’s jaw drops and he presses his hand over his chest to fein hurt.

“You didn’t tell her about me?” he asks. “And here I thought we were just the best of friends.” He sniffles.

“Oh shut it you,” I tell him. The whole situation has made me crabby.

“Don’t take it personally,” Rylie reassures him with a concealed smirk towards me. “Cora doesn’t like talking about anything to do with the marriage law. It’s a wonder I even know that her fiancé has been missing.”

“Enough!” I raise my voice to be heard. “Subject change: Why on earth would you people think I’d want to go with you to rescue Fred?”

There’s silence for a moment as everyone adjusts to my sudden forwardness. Hey I can be assertive when I need to be.

“Well you need to meet him sometime,” Mrs. Weasley says slowly. With great self-restraint I keep myself from rolling my eyes.

“Yes, but now hardly seems to be the best time,” I say. The Weasleys all stare at me blankly and I sigh. I really shouldn’t have to explain this. “Fred has been missing and assumed dead for _two months_ ,” I explain slowly. “If he was gone for that long something must have happened to him that wouldn’t let him come back. So who knows what kind of state he’s in.”

To my surprise Mrs. Weasley smiles.

“Oh is that all dear?” she asks with a slight chuckle. _What?_ “We know exactly why he couldn’t come back and what state he’s in. The Aurors found him in a muggle mental institution. They’re not quite sure how the muggles found him, but they did and they say he was talking crazy about magic and wizards and wands and a battle. They obviously thought he was delirious and then once he attacked them trying to get away to find George they called the… umm what are they called again dear?”

“Please-men,” Mr. Weasley answers proudly.

“Policemen,” I correct automatically.

“Yes,” Mrs. Weasley agrees. “They called the policemen who picked him up and then had him institutionalized when they couldn’t figure out what was wrong with him. And of course we have his wand, so he’s been stuck there ever since.”

I gape at her for a minute. This certainly doesn’t explain everything (like how a dead body just came back to life, got up, and made its way to a muggle populated area without anyone noticing), but in a way it makes sense… I guess.

“Okay so why do we have to go get him? Why couldn’t the Aurors just pick him up and bring him back once they’d found him,” I ask even though I’m pretty sure I already know the answer. If you remember, I did work with the Aurors for two years. Mrs. Weasley huffs at this and purses her lips.

“I asked the same question. _Apparently_ the Aurors are only allowed to modify that many muggles’ memories, and not to mention the sheer amount of documentation they have on Fred, in _emergencies_. Since the muggles told them all they had to do to get him out was have family come identify themselves and sign a release form they left it for us to do ourselves,” she explains crossly.

Unfortunately this confirms my suspicions. I scowl.

“Okay, but why do you need _me_?” I ask. Mr. Weasley smiles self-consciously.

“Do we look like the kind of people who could just walk into a muggle establishment and not look suspicious? We could get locked up just like Fred if we’re not careful. We need you to help us play the part. You would know what you’re doing,” he says.

Drat. It’s like these people already know my weakness. I can’t just not help people who need me.

“I’ve never busted anyone out of a psych ward or anything before,” I mumble.

“Well there’s a first time for everything!” George says brightly, clapping me on the shoulder. I pull a face. I know I’ve been cracked, but I put up one last feeble defense.

“But I told Rylie that I’d look through her wedding magazines with her.”

Mrs. Weasley lights up and turns to Rylie with newfound enthusiasm.

“Wedding magazines?” Mrs. Weasley asks. Rylie nods eagerly and pulls a couple out of the bulging bag still weighing down her shoulder.

“I’ve already gone through them and marked the things I liked and I was trying to bounce ideas off Cora earlier, but I was boring her to tears,” Rylie enlightens her, skillfully evading the death glare I’m aiming at her.

“Oh I would love to see your ideas!” Mrs. Weasley beams. “The two of us girls can stay and talk wedding details while you lot go bring my baby home.”

Rylie nods animatedly, no doubt glad to have someone who will not only listen, but be actively involved.

“Cora how does that sound?” Mrs. Weasley asks and I swear I detect a twinkle of mischief in her eyes. I narrow my eyes.

“Fine.” I sigh. I know when I’m beaten.

 


	6. My... Fiance

Me, George, and Mr. Weasley are walking down a muggle street following directions Mr. Weasley wrote down after speaking with an Auror about the best way to get to Fred. It’s been a quiet walk with George practically bouncing down the pavement and me constantly having to drag Mr. Weasley away from “fascinating muggle contraptions” such as parking meters, neon signs, and street lamps. I’m still mad about getting dragged into this, but something has been bugging me and I just can’t wait any longer to hear the answer.

“George? How did you do that talking Patronus thing?” I ask curiously.

“What? Oh that,” he says like it’s nothing. “That was just how we communicated in the Order.”

“George!” Mr. Weasley chastises his son.

“You were in the Order of the Phoenix?” I ask bewildered. George grins at me.

“Course I was! We all were,” he confesses.

“George,” Mr. Weasley says again, this time rubbing his forehead. We both continue to ignore him.

“Is that how you lost your ear?” I ask before I can even think to stop myself. George laughs.

“Oh you noticed did you? Yeah that’s how I lost my ear,” he tells me with a broad grin as though it pleases him immensely to have people ask him about it. I’m silent for a second as I digest this. Then I’m back to wanting my questions answered.

“So how do you do it? The Patronus thing. I’ve never even heard of it before.”

“Well that’s because Dumbledore figured out how to do it and only taught Order members so that we would have a safe, fast way to communicate between members,” George explains. I nod. It makes sense and seems like something only Dumbledore would manage.

“Will you teach me sometime?” I ask, glancing at Mr. Weasley out of the corner of my eye to see if he will try to stop us. I needn’t have worried. Mr. Weasley now seems to be pretending he can’t hear our conversation. Ignorance is bliss and all that.

“Sure,” George agrees easily. We turn a corner and Mr. Weasley stops.

“We’re here,” he announces.

It’s a dilapidated stone building with a large set of revolving doors in the front and a set of regular doors to the side marked _Handicapped Only_. The gray paint coating the stones began peeling long ago and it seems no one ever thought to redo it. It looks rather depressing actually. And the sign looming above the doors just adds to the feel of it all.

_Haggarton’s Home for the Mentally Impaired_

A shiver runs down my spine as I imagine what horrors could be within. I’ve obviously watched too many scary movies. I blame Sam, my best friend; she’s the one who loves those genres. I’m more of a crime solving kind of girl. At least it’s not a full out insane asylum.

“So these are all we need?” George asks dubiously while eyeing the plastic card in his hand displaying his photo and general information.

“Yes,” I confirm shaking the distracting thoughts from my head and trying to focus. “They’ll ask you for your ID and you give them that. If they ask for anything else we’ll just have to say we didn’t know to bring it and then come back later with it. Hopefully they won’t though.” _Because I’d really just like to get this over with_ , I add silently.

George and Mr. Weasley nod in understanding and then Mr. Weasley gestures for me to lead the way. This is probably because they’ve never been through a revolving door before. I imagine it looks quite insane to people who haven’t grown up using them.

I give them a quick tutorial on the door (one person per opening. Yes you do actually have to push the door _and_ walk. Don’t push it too fast or you’ll run over not only yourself but whoever else is in the door. Make sure you get out once you get to the opening inside the building. That kind of thing), and then demonstrate for them. They do well enough, though Mr. Weasley looks a little too excited to be considered normal. Hopefully it will just be passed off as a man eager to regain his son.

After we’re all inside with no mishaps I lead the way to the desk at the other end of the small lobby. The room is shabby like the outside, but clean. The wallpaper is faded and starting to peel, but the floor is clean and it smells like artificial lemon with a heavy chemical undertone. There’s a young blonde woman sitting behind the chipped desk surveying us all politely and waiting good-naturedly as we approach.

“Good afternoon,” she says once we reach the desk. “How can I help you today?”

“Umm we’ve been told you have a man named Fred Weasley umm, in your care,” I tell her. “We’d like to take him home.”

She eyes me carefully for a moment and then her eyes flit between George and Mr. Weasley standing behind me. Her eyes settle on George for just a moment too long before she turns around to leaf through the file folders behind her.

“We do have a patient here by the name Fred Weasley that was brought in off the street a few months ago and no family has ever come for him. In order to take him with you I’ll need to see your ID’s as proof that you are family,” she says eyeing me with a distrustful frown.

“Right here!” George says, slapping his plastic ID down on the counter in front of her. She jumps a bit at the sudden move but recovers quickly and picks up the ID to examine. She smiles at George and nods.

“Thank you Mr. Weasley. I must say you look just like him. I’m guessing you’re the twin he’s always going on about?” she asks. George beams and nods at her as Mr. Weasley hands over his ID as well. She approves him and then turns back to me.

“And yours?” she asks.

“Oh I’m not really family,” I say hurriedly.

George throws an arm around my shoulder and says boisterously, “Well not yet anyway. Her and Freddy are engaged.”

I flush as the receptionist looks doubtfully at my bare ring finger. I shove George’s arm off me.

“George don’t you say a word to Fred,” I hiss at him before turning back to the receptionist with a sad apologetic smile. “Sorry. Fred had an uh- accident right before we… lost him. It messed up his memory a bit and he er- doesn’t remember me. So if you could just not say anything about me being his f-fiancé… Last time we told him he flipped out and that’s how he ended up here I guess,” I explain in what I hope is a convincing tone. Her expression softens immediately and she becomes much friendlier towards me.

“Oh of course dear. I’m so sorry for such a terrible thing to happen. Poor Fred. I’ll just have someone go fetch him shall I? Oh and don’t worry. I won’t breathe a word,” she says, miming zipping her lips. I allow a relieved grin to stretch my lips.

“Thank you.”

She disappears down the hall to our left and I round on George.

“George Weasley if you say a word about the stupid marriage law to Fred while we’re here I will break your arms and throw you in the Black Lake,” I hiss venomously. George takes an involuntary step back and then grins.

“Of course I won’t Cory. I’m not stupid,” he says flippantly. I scowl.

“Don’t call me Cory,” I say and then turn back to the hall just as a red blur darts in front of me and attacks George.

“GEORGE!” the blur, no, man yells as he strangles George in a hug. George doesn’t seem to mind much though as he’s doing his best to do the same to who else but Fred Weasley? I glance at George and see to my surprise that he has tears running down his face. I turn bewildered to Mr. Weasley and see he’s all misty eyed as well.

I retreat several steps to give the family some space for their tearful reunion. I end up standing beside the receptionist and an older female orderly who, I’m assuming, was the one to escort Fred to the lobby. They’re both wiping their eyes and exchanging smiles though looking a bit sad at the same time.

The elder woman catches me looking and smiles kindly at me.

“We’re so happy for Fred. He’s been one of the staff’s favorites though. So it’s going to be hard saying goodbye,” she explains. I nod and wordlessly begin examining my hands.

“I’m sure everything will work out,” the receptionist says giving my shoulder a squeeze, no doubt thinking I’m nervous about bringing Fred home, rather than dreading having to break the news to him and then deal with his reaction… And then marry him… And then spend the rest of my life with him and birth his babies and do his laundry and clean up after him and-

“Cora! What are you doing over there? Get over here!” George suddenly yells. I shake myself from my depressing musings. If I allow myself to continue on with this train of thought _I’ll_ be the one in the mental institution. I reluctantly slog over to the Weasley’s and am relieved to see that they’ve at least regained control of their tear ducts. Not that there’s anything wrong with crying. I just have no idea how to comfort crying people so they make me uncomfortable.

Now that Fred and George are standing side by side I can see their differences, or rather lack thereof. Seriously, they look exactly alike. They even both look a little too pale and under fed. It’s crazy. How the hell am I supposed to do this? And then George pulls a goofy face and I know it’s him. I roll my eyes and smile just a wee bit.

“So who’s this?” Fred asks looking curious, but not unfriendly. I level a stern stare at George reminding him of my earlier threat. He just grins at me and winks.

“She’s Cora. We’ll tell you all about her later,” George tells Fred. Fred shrugs, seeming to trust his brother’s judgment.

“Alright,” he agrees easily. “Pleasure to meet you Cora. I’m Fred.”

“Obviously,” I scoff causing the pair to laugh like I just told a really witty joke. I glance at Mr. Weasley to see if this is normal, but he’s too busy smiling fondly at his boys.

“Alright I better go say goodbye and then we can get out of here,” Fred says. “I can’t wait for some of mum’s cooking.”

Then he bounds off and scoops both the orderly and the receptionist into a big hug causing both ladies to giggle.

“Laura my dear I shall miss you so,” Fred tells the elder witch solemnly kissing her hand. “Give dear Elliot a nice wallop in the back of the head for me next time he says something insensitive to Elsie.”

Laura giggles again.

“It’s not going to be the same without you here to brighten up the place Fred,” she tells him.

“I’ll come back and visit,” Fred promises. He then turns to the receptionist.

“Maggie, are you sure you won’t dump your boyfriend for me? I’m not a patient anymore after all,” Fred says teasingly with a dramatic wink. Maggie giggles shyly with an uncomfortable look over Fred’s shoulder at me. I try to keep my face blank and not show how much his flirting does bug me even though I know he has no idea about the marriage law.

“I’m sure,” she tells him with a smile. “Now go off with your family and don’t forget to visit.”

“Ma’am yes, ma’am!” Fred salutes. “Tell everyone else I said goodbye and to cause some mischief for me!”

“Of course,” Maggie tells him. Then Fred springs back over to us and we exit the building, Fred waving goodbye once over his shoulder and then never looking back.

My stomach is a knot of nerves as we walk down the muggle streets back to our disapparation point, me trailing behind the three Weasleys. It’s going to happen soon and then I’ll actually have to interact with and try to make things work with Fred. I walk with my head down, examining the sidewalk beneath my sneakers while thoughts of my future whirl through my mind.

I don’t know _anything_ about Fred. I don’t know what kind of food he likes, what his sleeping habits are, or if he prefers early mornings or late nights. I don’t even know his favorite color! For God’s sake, he could be gay for all I know! A crazed chuckle escapes from my lips at the thought. It should horrify me (not that I have anything against gay people), but I can’t help but think that it wouldn’t be so bad. There would be no expectations at least. Suddenly an elbow jab to the arm jars me from my thoughts.

“What’s so funny,” George demands. I blink. I hadn’t even noticed he and Fred had fallen back to walk on either side of me like bookends leaving Mr. Weasley to lead the way.

“Absolutely nothing,” I say elbowing him back, because his had kind of hurt.

“Then why did you laugh?” he presses, jabbing me again.

“That wasn’t a laugh. It was a chuckle,” I hedge, elbowing him back. George snorts.

“Okay Miss Technical, why did you _chuckle_?” he amends, continuing our now game of elbowing the other after we speak.

“Because I’m hilarious, that’s why,” I tell him. There’s no way I’m going to tell him that I was laughing about the hope that Fred would turn out to be gay. George snorts.

“You haven’t even experienced hilarious yet,” George tells me arrogantly. “Fred and me are the kings of hilarity.” I snort and instead of answering I drag Mr. Weasley away from the bicycle rack he stopped to examine exclaiming about the eccentrics of muggle art, earning a few stares from the muggles.

“So how long have you two been together?” Fred asks conversationally, smirking between George and me. I trip over a crack in the sidewalk, but George continues unfazed.

“ _We_ aren’t together, _you_ two are,” George replies with a smirk of his own.

 

 


	7. Kingsley Shacklebolt

“ _We_ aren’t together, _you_ two are,” George replies with a smirk of his own.

I gasp and punch George in the arm.

“I told you-!”

George cuts me off.

“You told me not to tell him while we were _there_. You never said anything about while we’re _here_ ,” he says cockily. I glare at him.

“You are an absolute idiot.”

“Would one of you mind telling me what the two of you are going on about?” Fred demands, looking confused but not angry. “If this is supposed to be a prank George it’s a pretty lame one. I’ve never even met this girl before, let alone asked her out. You’re slipping Georgie.”

I glance uncomfortably at George who doesn’t seem to mind the load that he’s about to dump on his brother’s shoulders. Instead he smirks at me with a mischievous twinkle in his eye before turning to Fred.

“What was it you said we should tell him Cora? Something along the lines of ‘ _Welcome home Freddie. We’re so glad you’re not actually dead! Oh! By the way, the Ministry betrothed you to some girl you’ve never met before while you were gone and you’ll be married within the next two months. Surprise!_ ”

I glare ferociously at George.

“I never said we should say that to him you git! I was just pointing out the irony of the situation!” I shout angrily. George waves his hand dismissively.

“Ah details, details. The long and short of it dear brother,” George says turning back to his severely confused twin, “is that the Ministry passed a marriage law that matched up everyone between ages 17 and 40 and is forcing them to either get married or go to Azkaban. And you and Cora are matched!” He says it like Fred just won the lottery. Fred glances at me and then cracks a smile at his twin.

“Ha ha, very funny Georgie. You almost had me there,” he says, shaking his head in amusement. “Very elaborate, but not very believable. Better luck next time.” George grins even wider at Fred’s denial and I realize that this is all just a big joke to him. He’s just trying to pull one over on his brother without thinking about how Fred might react to such news.

“George-,” I warn him, but he ignores me.

“That’s the best part, Freddie,” George says gleefully. “It’s not a joke. It’s true.”

Fred snorts. “Okay then. Who are _you_ matched with?” he asks. George’s face falls and he suddenly looks uncomfortable for the first time. That’s when I remember that Angelina is Fred’s ex. Fred’s grin drops off his face and splats on the pavement as he catches sight of George’s face. He stops in his tracks, forcing us to both stop as well. By the look on his face I know that he now knows that none of this is a joke. He stares in stunned amazement between me and George.

“Maybe we should just get back to the-,” I start quietly, but Fred cuts me off.

“I don’t believe anybody asked _you_ ,” Fred says loudly and then turns away from me and back to George, thoroughly blocking me out. I stiffen and stare open mouthed at the back of his head for a moment before the rage rises up in me and then I am _furious_.

All I can think is that this is foreshadowing the rest of my life. Fred will dismiss me whenever I’m not needed. He’ll try to train me to speak only when spoken to. He’ll try to transform me into his meek little housewife while he carries on as he always has; nothing changed for him while my life is full of misery and suppressed anger.

No way in _hell_ , am I going to let that happen. From this moment on I’m not going to take a single thing Fred Weasley tries to dish out at me. I might as well write off George as well. There’s no way he’ll go back on his twin.

I grab Fred’s shoulder and spin him around. Since he’s the same height as George I can look dead into his eyes, mine blazing in a rage that far outstrips his own.

“ _Excuse me_?” I demand through clenched teeth. He raises his eyebrows and opens his mouth to make some disparaging remark I’m sure, but I don’t give him the opportunity. “You think you’re the only one affected here? You think I want to marry you? This wasn’t exactly my choice buddy,” I snarl, giving him a hard poke in the chest. “And I’ll be damned if I’m going to just let you steamroll over me and mess up my life more than it already has been. If you think I’m just going to sit when you say sit and stay when you say stay you’ve got another think coming.”

I glare one more time at George just for being such a colossal idiot and then stomp off to go catch up to Mr. Weasley. My blood is rushing through my ears and my thoughts are raging through my head like a freight train. I’m just _so mad_. I feel like I could explode at a moment’s notice just from the sheer force of it all.

Finally I catch up to Mr. Weasley who’s waiting just outside our alley, no doubt avoiding the smell for as long as he can.

“There you are,” he says brightly, oblivious to everything that just happened between me and the Weasley twins. “I was worried you’d all gotten lost.”

I just shake my head, not trusting myself to speak. A few moments later the twins come into view and Mr. Weasley sighs in relief. Within a minute we’ve disappeared from the foul-smelling alley and reappeared at the Burrow.

I stomp into the house ahead of our group and a wall of anxious voices hits me as I step across the threshold. It seems everyone has managed to come home to greet Fred. I’m oddly relieved at this. Maybe Rylie and I will be able to slip out early in all the hubbub. I leave the door open behind me for the others, but still don’t look back. I’m angry and frustrated, but somehow I don’t want to take it out on them any more than I already have and if I’m forced to interact with them I know I will.

The voices lead me to the sitting room which seems even more pressed for space than usual. There are way too many people here for it to just be the Weasley family. It seems Fred has got himself a whole welcoming party. I stop just outside the doorway and then groan a bit. Of course my conscious won’t just let me let him go in there unprepared. If it was me I’d want to spend some time with just me and my family instead of a whole mob of people. I sigh and curse my Hufflepuff qualities for not the first time in my life and then turn back to catch Fred just as he, George, and Mr. Weasley are walking through the front door.

Him and George are cracking up about something, but as soon as Fred sees me coming he stops abruptly and his lip curls slightly. I scowl at the less than warm welcome. And when I was just coming to help him out too.

“There’s a whole mob of people in there just so you know,” I mumble, trying not to glare at him too much. His face remains unreadable for just a moment too long and then he beams and nudges George.

“Well then let the party begin!” he says and then bounds into the sitting room, George close behind. George at least spares me a backward glance before catching up with Fred. A roar of loud excitable voices erupts from the room’s occupants as the twins enter. Mrs. Weasley’s sobs are unmistakable.

I frown after them and wonder how on earth we got matched. We are nothing alike. My chest hurts as I wonder how we are possibly going to make this work. Then I shake the thoughts from my head. This is not the time or place for a break down.

Mr. Weasley places a warm hand on my shoulder and gives it a squeeze. I look up at him and he bestows a sad smile upon me before trailing after his sons. I sigh and lean against the wall, allowing myself to wallow for a few moments. Then I straighten up, square my shoulders, and walk into the room with my chin up.

I see Fred in the center of the room yucking it up with George at his side. They’re surrounded by people and seem to be jointly telling a story. I tune it out and start searching through the room for Rylie. Finally I find her in the corner with Hermione flipping idly through magazines and chatting about wedding things. She sees me approaching and jumps up.

“Cora! Fred seems, er- nice?” she says, glancing over at Fred who looks like he’s having the time of his life. He’s probably thinking he should have faked his death ages ago so he could get all this attention.

“He seems like a conceited git,” I correct her. Hermione behind her laughs, having obviously overheard.

“He does come off that way doesn’t he?” she says. “But he’s really not once you get to know him.” I roll my eyes at her, in no mood for social niceties.

“So basically he’s an arsehole, but you get used to it,” I snap. Rylie looks a bit panicked at my outburst while Hermione seems to be shocked speechless. I turn back to Rylie.

“You ready to go?”

“Let me grab my stuff,” she says quickly and rushes back to the spot of floor she’d been occupying and starts shoving magazines back into her oversized tote. A few seconds later she’s stooped under the weight of her tote and ready to go. I roll my eyes at her and take the bag from her shoulder. I cast a feather light charm on it and then place it on my own shoulder. Rylie grins sheepishly. Of all my siblings, she has the hardest time remembering about the conveniences of magic.

I roll my eyes again, but this time with the slightest upquirk of my lips.

“Let’s blow this popsicle stand,” I tell her and we begin making our way to the door.

“Cora? Cora Rivers is that you?” a booming voice calls out. The room quiets a bit at the question. I spin around and search for the owner. I’d know that deep slow voice anywhere. Finally I catch sight of him making his way over from the other side of the room and my first real smile of the day blossoms on my face.

“Kingsley!” I exclaim, beaming. He smiles as he finally reaches us and puts one of his large dark hands on each of my shoulders.

“How are you? I didn’t know you were friends with the Weasleys!” he says happily then drops his hands to his sides. My smile fades and I press my lips into a firm line.

“It’s been a recent development,” I say stiffly. Kingsley studies my face seriously for a moment before smiling sadly.

“You’ve been matched?” he asks, but I know it’s not really a question. Every unmarried witch and wizard aged 17 to 40 has been matched so of course I have. “Which one?” he asks.

“Fred,” I bite out through gritted teeth. I can’t stop myself from glancing in his direction and that’s when I realize that the focus of the room has shifted from him to me. I quickly turn back to Kingsley just as he bursts into laughter. I gape at him in shocked offense for a moment before punching him in the arm.

“Why are you laughing at me you git?” I demand fiercely. He manages to turn his outright laughter into amused chuckles.

“The two of you could out-stubborn a mule.” He says. Then instead of elaborating he catches sight of Rylie behind me.

“Hello, you must be Rylie,” he says holding out a hand. Rylie comes forward with a smile to shake it.

“Yes, and you’re Kingsley Shacklebolt,” she says confidently.

“Umm hello?!” I bring their attention back to me. “That still doesn’t really explain why you think this is so funny.”

He grins. “Oh I’m sure anyone who knows the two of you could see it,” he says cryptically. I scowl, but drop the topic knowing that if Kingsley doesn’t want to tell me something he won’t.

“What are you doing here? I didn’t know you were friends with the Weasleys,” I say, turning his own question back on him. He smiles.

“We were all in The Order together,” he tells me proudly. I smirk. Of course.

“I knew it,” I tell him smugly. He laughs, his deep booming laugh reverberating through the room.

“I know you knew it,” he tells me. “That was one of the things that made you the best assistant I’ve ever had. You had the intelligence to figure it out and the good sense not to talk about it. That and your loyalty and you not having anything against breaking rules for the greater good.”

I blush slightly at the praise and roll my eyes.

“I didn’t really _break_ any rules. I just _bent_ them when the occasion called for it,” I rationalize. And then I gasp in realization.

“Wait a second! That means you know how to do that talking Patronus thing!” I exclaim. He laughs again, a deep belly laugh that I’ve only heard from him a few times. I can’t help but smile even as I prepare to berate him.

“Yes, I know how to do ‘that talking Patronus thing’,” he admits with a chuckle.

“And you never taught me! Traitor,” I glare playfully at him. He just smiles and shrugs.

“Never came up,” he shrugs. I roll my eyes.

“And here I thought we were a team,” I say. “And speaking of, when do I get to come back to work?” I demand. “I’ve been bored to tears at home all the time. The Ministry has got to be safe for muggleborns again by now. Or as safe as it ever was before the war at any rate.”

Kingsley immediately looks uncomfortable and I narrow my eyes at him suspiciously. He hardly ever looks uncomfortable. Usually he’s right at home in his own skin.

“Er- Actually the position has already been filled with- er, someone else,” he says. My jaw drops and a black hole rips open in my chest. I’ve been replaced? I thought we worked well together. Kingsley needs me. But now he’s just gone and gotten himself somebody else? Why? What did I do wrong? Why am I not good enough anymore?

“What?” I ask, and I’m embarrassed at how small and broken my voice sounds. Kingsley flinches as though I’ve struck him, but then straightens up to his full height and puts a kind although condescending expression on his face.

“I think it’s time for you to move on,” he says. _What?_ I repeat mentally. “You’ve got too much potential to waste it just as someone’s assistant, even mine.”

I gape at him for a moment, still overwhelmed by the immense hurt wracking my chest. Then the anger comes in and I’m furious. How dare he? How dare _any of them_ think that they can just control my life?

“How dare you?” I snarl in a vicious whisper. Kingsley at least has the good grace to look ashamed.

“How dare you make my decisions for me!” I bellow furiously.

“It’s for the best-,”

I cut Kingsley off with a sharp slap across the face. The room is now in a stunned silence.

“You ministry types are all the same aren’t you?” I growl in a quiet but powerful tone. “You think that just because you’ve got power you can lord it over people and make decisions for them! Well forget you Shacklebolt! I don’t need you!”

I spin away from him and storm from the room, leaving an astonished silence in my wake. I burst out the back door and slam it savagely behind me. A sob rips from my throat and I’m horrified to realize that I’m battling tears. On impulse I turn on the spot and disapparate, fleeing the scene just before George and Rylie come barreling out of The Burrow behind me.


	8. The Willow

I figure I’ve got maybe ten seconds to compose myself before the willow leaves are torn open so George Weasley can come force his presence upon me. I knew who it would be as soon as I heard the crack of apparation as he arrived. No one else would know to look for me here.

Then, just as I’ve predicted, George invites himself into my sanctuary and sits beside me. Unfortunately ten seconds was not long enough to get myself together.

No matter how many times I wipe the tears from my cheeks more just keep coming to replace them. I hate this overwhelming stress. I hate that I’m like this. I hate crying. I hate being weak. I put my face down in my hands to hide it and try to stifle my sobs. Then I feel a hesitant arm go around my shoulders and I freeze. George tugs me over until my head is on his shoulder and then strokes his fingers down my ponytailed hair in what should be a soothing manner.

To me though, it’s just weird. I’ve never had someone do this for me before. I’ve never cried on anyone’s shoulder. Through choice of my own, I’ve never allowed myself to break down and be comforted by someone. When I break down I prefer for there to be no witnesses. It’s just how I operate. The surprise of George’s offer at least gets me to stop crying although I’m still hiccupping slightly from the unexpected onslaught of tears.

I lean away from him and wipe my face. Then I rest my forehead on my raised knees as I try to focus on getting my breathing back under control. It’s hard when I’m distracted by George just being here. It just feels unnatural. I should be alone.

“So correct me if I’m wrong,” George starts speaking slowly and quietly as though trying not to scare me off, “but that seemed like it was about a lot more than just losing your job.”

I hiccup. Of course it’s about more than just that. It’s about _all_ of it. _Everything_. It’s about me losing a job that I _loved_. It’s about the marriage law. It’s about yelling at Fred. It’s about the hated residual stress from this whole terrible day/week. It’s about yet another person making a choice about _my_ life and _my_ future for me without even talking to me about it. It’s about the bleak future ahead of me. It’s about the uncertainty. It’s about having no idea what to even do about _any_ of it.

“Well there’s one good thing to come out of the job thing at least,” George says after several seconds without a response from me. I finally lift my head and stare miserably at him.

“What?” I ask with a pathetic sniff. George smiles sadly at me and tugs fondly at a lock of hair that has fallen out of my ponytail. I take it from him and tuck it behind my ear with a scowl. He just smiles.

“Remember last time we were here and you told me that your career choice wasn’t what you’d had planned? Well maybe now is your chance to do what you wanted to do before,” he says. I frown thoughtfully and turn to stare at the wall of leaves in front of us. That sounds great in theory. The only problem is… I’m afraid.

I know, pathetic right? Being afraid of a _job_? It’s silly and irrational, but I just can’t help it. Working with Kingsley was a safe job. No risk. People had low expectations for me being an assistant just out of school so it was easy to impress them. To go into Experimental Charms would be a risk. And it’s been so long since I’ve really practiced a lot of charms… I’m not sure if I’d be any good at it.

“What’s this job that you missed out on anyway?” George asks curiously after a long silence on my end.

“Experimental Charms,” I mumble. George brightens noticeably.

“Really?” he asks with genuine interest. I can’t help the amused smile that teases my lips.

“Yes, really,” I reply.

“That would be so cool!” George crows. I grin fully now.

“Are you any good?” he asks. I pull a face.

“I was back in school, but I don’t know anymore. I’m out of practice,” I explain reluctantly.

“Well don’t worry about it,” he tells me, waving away my concern. “We’ll help you practice and get you back up to snuff in no time! And then you can go ace the interview and get your dream job.”

I grin at his enthusiasm, but then his words catch up to me and the smile fades.

“We?” I ask tentatively.

“Well yeah. Me and Fred of course,” he answers giving me a look like, duh you should know this. I give him my own dubious look, but keep the opinion to myself that Fred will want nothing to do with me. Upon seeing my face his expression goes all soft again.

“Hey don’t worry about Fred,” he tells me. “He’ll come around, he always does. It was just a bit of a shock to him and I admit I probably could’ve found a more tactful way to tell him.”

I snort loudly at this last bit. Not my best choice of response seeing as I’ve just been crying all over the place. I surreptitiously wipe my nose on my sleeve.

“Yeah like _not_ in the middle of a street full of muggles five minutes after we’ve just rescued him from a mental home he’s been stuck in for the past two months?” I ask incredulously. “What were you even thinking?”

George at least has the good grace to look a bit embarrassed even if he’s still grinning.

“I- er got a bit carried away,” he confesses. “But you’ve got to admit that the look on his face was priceless!” I roll my eyes and before I know it we’re laughing together about absolutely nothing. And it feels good. Unfortunately I sober much more quickly than I want to.

“George what if I’m no good?” I ask self-consciously. George gives me a look.

“Cor I’ve known you for a week and I already know you’re good,” he says earnestly. I stare at him doubtfully.

“Really!” he continues upon seeing my disbelief. “Those ID’s that you charmed for us were perfect. That receptionist didn’t even look suspicious! And look! This bag should weigh a ton,” he says, gesturing to Rylie’s magazine bag lying beside me in the dirt. “But it practically floats.” He proves his point by blowing on it, causing it to flutter up and over an inch or two just like a feather.

“That’s only two things,” I say unconvinced. “And anyone can do a feather light charm. That’s second year stuff.”

George rolls his eyes and groans.

“Well call it a gut feeling then,” he says. I roll my eyes.

“You Gryffindor’s and your gut feelings,” I say fondly, “You’d think your gut was attached to your brain with the way you lot go by it.”

George laughs.

“Isn’t it?” he asks. I just chuckle and shake my head. We sit in silence for a while longer before George suggests that we go back.

“Do we have to?” I whine. “Can’t I just go live under a rock for the rest of my life? I’m an absolute _mess_ and I’ve just made an utter fool of myself, _again_.”

George laughs.

“Only if you’re okay with leaving Rylie with us Weasley’s forever,” he grins wolfishly while helping me to my feet. I groan again.

“Oh God, I completely lost it in front of Rylie. She must think I’ve gone off my rocker.” I wasn’t looking forward to going back before, but now I’m definitely not.

“Don’t be thick,” George says as he grabs my hand and pulls me out from under the tree, despite my best efforts to stay. “She knows you’re human. She’s just worried about you.”

“She is?” I ask with a pained grimace. “She’s not _supposed_ to worry about me. It’s supposed to be the other way around.” George turns to look at me, confused.

“You can’t shelter your siblings from everything in life you know,” he tells me. I shoot him a look.

“That’s never been more obvious than it is now,” I deadpan as we begin walking back towards the Burrow rather than apparating. George offers me a sympathetic look, but says nothing. After a few minutes of walking in silence, I groan again as a thought hits me.

“What?” George asks, stopping beside me.

“Did I _really_ slap Kingsley?” I moan. George laughs and slaps me on the back before continuing down the road. I resume trudging along beside him.

“Yes! And it was brilliant!” George crows. “And how you were messing with him before you got all mad? That was awesome too.”

I shoot him a confused look. “What do you mean? I was just treating him how I always do. We always mess with each other.” George grins at me and shakes his head at my apparent obtuseness.

“Well I guess you wouldn’t see anything particularly bold about that,” he says. I frown at him.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Well with your dad and all,” he elaborates without really elaborating.

“What?” I demand.

“Your dad is kinda scary alright!” he finally spits out, not looking the least bit ashamed of saying so. I snort.

“He is not,” I refute. George gives me a look.

“He is. We all talked about it after you guys left the other night. Your dad is pretty intimidating.”

I’m quiet for a minute as I try to see my dad from an outsider’s point of view. Sure he’s tall, but not super tall. He’s only just under six feet. Jon is taller. He’s muscular, but not buff. It must be his presence, I decide. He used to be in the army, only as a nurse but still, and he has that military stance and aura about him. To me he’s just my goofy dad who’s sarcastic and likes to laugh and poke fun. He’s where I get my sense of humor. But I suppose to someone who doesn’t know him like I do he could be intimidating.

“Okay,” I concede the point to George. “But what does my dad have to do with Kingsley?”

“Well I mean if you’re used to being around an intimidating man then other intimidating men won’t seem so intimidating to you right?” George asks. I shrug.

“Well I suppose… Wait. Does this mean you think Kingsley is intimidating?” I ask curiously. Honestly I’ve never been intimidated by him or… Anyone really now that I think about it. Scared for my life sure, but never simply intimidated. George gives me a patronizing stare.

“ _Everyone_ thinks Kingsley is intimidating,” he says dryly. “He’s a big black crime fighting machine! How could that not intimidate you? He could crush you like a bowtruckle in one hand!”

I laugh loudly at his description of Kingsley. I can’t help it! It’s just too funny.

“Let’s get back,” I say through my chuckles. George shoots me an incredulous look and gestures to the road under our feet.

“I thought that’s what we were already doing,” he says. I arch my eyebrow at him and without another word turn on my heel and disapparate. I reappear in the same spot in front of the Burrow’s front gate as I did last time, only this time I stand and wait for George to appear instead of racing for the house. I don’t have to wait long before George appears a foot and a half to my right.

“Well that was rude,” he says with a mock sniff sounding very much like Percy. I roll my eyes and grin.

“Well you’ll have to forgive me Mr. Manners, but I have a few apologies that I am quite eager to get over with,” I tell him as we begin heading for the house. George vaults himself over the gate and then turns and waits for me. I give him a disparaging look then pointedly open the gate and step through like a normal person before allowing it to swing shut behind me. He just grins and continues on.

“Too right you do,” he agrees. “Who besides Kingsley is getting the honor of an apology?”

I grimace. “Well I suppose Fred deserves one. I did go off on him. And Rylie will get one once we get home. I kind of abandoned her.” George nods in agreement.

“You weren’t totally out of line with Fred though,” he tells me. “He was rather being a git.”

“Yes but he’d just had a shock so he’s entitled. Me on the other hand should be able to control my temper,” I explain. George just shrugs.

“I kinda like your temper. You never know when you’re going to get treated to a show,” he says with a wink. I scowl and stick my foot out to trip him. He skips over it and sticks his tongue out in response before running into the house. I shake my head and follow at a much slower pace. Here goes nothing.

Kingsley’s apology is awkward and quick. We both admit we could have handled things differently and the only thing to do now is keep moving forward. I apologize especially for slapping him to which he just grins and says that he’d probably warranted a slap anyway; if not for this incident then for something else.

Fred’s goes very poorly in comparison. Turns out it’s pretty difficult to apologize to someone when they’re doing their best to ignore you. I couldn’t even get him to look at me. I was just about to lose my temper again when I heard someone yell my name in the very near vicinity.

“CORA!”

“Jesus!” I jump and swivel around. Then I realize who yelled and let out a loud groan. “But I don’t wanna,” I whine under my breath while digging in my pocket and walking towards the backdoor. No doubt this conversation will call for some privacy. My hand collides with a small handheld mirror. I lift it to my face and grimace at the image as I plop down on a garden bench.

“I heard that. And about damn time you stopped avoiding me,” my best friend Sam’s reflection says snottily from the mirror. She’s Indian (as in, from India) and absolutely beautiful. She has dark eyes, and sleek dark hair, and a flawless complexion. Well except for the giant purple burn streaking across the left side of her face from a childhood floo mishap. But burn or no burn, I’ve always been secretly jealous of her natural beauty.

“It was an accident,” I tell her. She lifts a perfectly sculpted eyebrow.

“An accident that you’ve been leaving your mirror in the bottom of your underwear drawer for the past two weeks?” she accuses.

“No an accident that I stopped avoiding you,” I say with a smirk. “I grabbed the mirror out of habit. I meant to leave it at home again.”

Sam scowls at me. “Prat. Why have you been avoiding me?” she demands. I put on a sad mopey face and try to look remorseful.

“Because I’ve been wallowing in my pit of despair and I wasn’t ready for you to pull me out of it yet,” I tell her, caking on as much pathetic-ness as I can.

“Well what if I needed you to pull me out of _my_ pit of despair?” Sam whines. I drop the act and roll my eyes.

“What? Does your match not have enough money for you?” I tease. She purses her lips and scowls.

“Why would that matter to me?” she sniffs. I laugh at this.

“Really?” I ask. “You’ve only been saying that you’re going to marry a very rich and very busy healer since first year. All of the money with minimal commitment.”

“Yeah. Well. Things change,” she says uncomfortably. I frown as she drops her eyes and looks away.

“Who’s your match?” I ask, finally being serious. She hesitates and then looks up at me again look wary.

“You know Ava Walters? She was a year above you in Hufflepuff,” she says slowly as though gauging my reaction. I furrow my brow in thought for a moment and then nod.

“Yeah she was nice enough. Does she have a brother or something?” I ask. Sam just stares at me wide eyed and it takes me a minute, but I get what she’s saying. Or at least I think I do.

“Wait. What? Are you matched to Ava?!” I ask, thoroughly gob smacked. Sam nods minutely. I jump to my feet and begin pacing the garden.

“How could the Ministry-? What gives them-? Don’t worry Sam we’ll get this worked out. I’m sure they can match you with someone else. I mean you’re not- You’re not-,” But I catch sight of her face in the mirror and it tells me that I’m wrong.

“You’re gay?!” I all but yell. Sam winces, but nods silently. My mouth drops open and I collapse back down on the bench in shock, allowing the mirror to droop between my knees. She never told me. We’ve been friends for a decade and she never said a word. I can’t speak; I can’t even look at her for a minute as I try to get my bearings straight. Finally I lift the mirror back up to my face and ask the question.

“Why? Why didn’t you ever tell me? I mean, I’m your best friend. Shouldn’t _I_ of all people have known?” I ask, trying and failing to maintain a poker face so she won’t see how hurt I am. I’ve never had a poker face. Sam always says I never would have survived in Slytherin because of this. I always say I never would have survived in Slytherin because of the stench.

“You mean… You don’t hate me?” she asks tentatively, almost like she can’t believe it. I give her a look that clearly states the very thought is bat shit crazy.

“Well I considered hating you for like a half a second because it’s been _10 bloody years_ and you haven’t said a _word_ , but then I was all Nah. That would mean I’d have to find a new best friend and that’s just too much work,” I joke, coming to terms with the situation. Don’t get me wrong, I’m still peeved that she never told me, but there are some things that are just more important than petty grudges; my best friend knowing that I accept her as she is, is one of them.

“Really?” she asks.

“No you nutter,” I snap. “I was joking!”

She laughs and shakes her head.

“I know, I just meant. You don’t have a problem with me being a lesbian? It doesn’t make you uncomfortable?”

I roll my eyes.

“Lady, I wouldn’t care if you turned out to be half dragon… Actually that would be kinda cool,” I muse. She laughs again looking relieved.

“You’re nutters,” she tells me. “How did we become friends again?”

“Umm I told you your face looked cool and you punched me,” I say thoughtfully with a reminiscent smile.

She snickers, no doubt remembering that fateful incident on the Hogwarts Express our first year. Incredibly it was when we were traveling back to the station for Christmas break so we’d already been sorted and acclimated to our houses. Most people thought it was unnatural, a Hufflepuff and a Slytherin being friends, and me being Muggleborn no less. It only got worse as the years passed, but it seemed like the most natural thing in the world to the two of us and honestly we’ve never really put much stock into what other people thought anyway.

She took me out of my comfort zone and taught me how to speak my mind. I reeled her back in and kept her down to earth. She told me once that it was because of me that she never got swept up in the Pureblood mania that took root in Slytherin house. We’ve come to the conclusion that every Slytherin needs a Hufflepuff. We badgers are good at curbing their ambition and making sure that they don’t trample other people on their way to their goals.

“So you’re matched to Ava,” I say, coming out of my thoughts. “You could do worse.”

She smiles and I can tell just by her expression that she’s already half in love with the girl.

“So who’s your match?” she asks curiously. “It must be bad if you’ve been hiding from me. No let me guess. Hmmmm. Flint!”

I make a gagging face.

“Thank God no. It’s just-,”

“No no! I want to guess!” she insists. I roll my eyes. She’s never going to guess.

“Jeffery Mithers.”

“No.”

“Wilson Thames.”

“No.”

“Mathias Gilroy.”

“ _Hell_ no.”

“Nathaniel-,”

“Oh for-! It’s Fred Weasley!” I exclaim. Her eyes go as round as galleons at the revelation.

“Fred Weasley?!” she all but squeals. “How did _you_ get Fred Weasley?”

“Hey! What’s that supposed to mean? And how do _you_ know him?” I ask curiously. She gives me an incredulous look.

“Who doesn’t know him?” she asks. “ _You_ should know him. Him and his twin brother, George were the funniest guys in school. Everyone knows them. And they’ve got a joke shop in Diagon Alley now! How could you _not_ know them?”

I mumble something about hoping it was a different pair of Weasley Twins causing all the trouble. She rolls her eyes.

“Only you would have a problem getting matched with one of the Weasley twins,” she says with a fond smile and a shake of her head. I huff and make myself more comfortable on the bench with my chin in my hand and elbow propped on one of the knees of my crossed legs.

“I think it would be a problem no matter who I got matched to. You know me and my independence,” I say sadly. She gives me a look.

“I know. But it could have been a lot worse,” she points out. I shrug wordlessly.

“Well,” she continues when I remain silent. “It could have been McLaggen.”

I grimace in horror and glare into the small mirror.

“Don’t even joke about that,” I say grimly. “They would’ve had to just throw me in Azkaban if that was the case. I wouldn’t be able to take the constant ‘accidental’ groping. And that _ego_! Ugh. I’ll take prison thanks.”

Sam laughs.

“Good to see some things will never change,” she says. I grin back. It is good.


	9. Betrayal

I’m hiding in the kitchen ‘checking the pot roast’ when I hear them arrive. One whoosh and a sudden flurry of activity coming from the sitting room signals the first Weasley. A second whoosh. A third and so on until I’ve counted a total of nine Weasley’s. That’s it then. They’re all here; even Charlie whom I haven’t met yet because he’s been in Romania. For a moment I hesitate at the dividing door between the kitchen and sitting room thinking of how cramped it must be in there, but then I take a deep breath and pull open the door.

I was right. It is packed. My parents’ house isn’t small, but it’s not big either and is in no way equipped to hold this many people comfortably.

“Cora! There you are,” my mom calls to me as she maneuvers through the sea of people. “Would you mind doing that thing again? That you did to the kitchen? We’re a bit short on space.”

I smile at my poor harried mother. My mum insisted on having dinner at our place this time since it wouldn’t be fair for the duty to always fall upon Mrs. Weasley. The problem was that only way we’d be able to fit this many people would be if I put an extension charm on the kitchen, which I did. It will only last a few hours, but it should be just enough time for our little gathering.

“Sure mum,” I agree easily while slipping my wand from the back pocket of my jeans. I furrow my brow in concentration and make a long arm sweeping movement and then a sharp flick of my wrist causing the far wall of the room to jump back several feet. There is a collective sigh of relief from the room’s occupants and my mother gives me a quick hug.

“Thank you dear that’s much better,” she gushes before turning away to go play hostess.

“Not good at Charms my arse,” says a voice to my left. I recognize it and turn to face George with a sheepish grin.

“I said that I’m out of practice, not no good,” I point out. He rolls his eyes.

“Whatever. You’re still bloody brilliant,” he says.

“Language Fred!” Mrs. Weasley barks from across the room causing the real Fred to burst out in a violent protest from somewhere near the fireplace while George beside me cracks up. I snort and shake my head just as someone taps me on the shoulder.

“Hello,” says a stocky man with curly red head that I’ve never seen before. He’s not tall like Bill, Percy, and Ron, but he’s definitely burlier than Fred and George. I spot a fresh, but healing burn peeking out of the neck of his t-shirt and several scars both old and new trailing up and down his arms.

“Oh! You must be Charlie,” I say with a smile, sticking out my hand for him to shake. He grins in response and grips my hand warmly within his own.

“That’s me! I’m assuming you’re Cora,” he leads. I nod.

“Yes and _you_ get to work with _dragons_ ,” I say with an envious grin. “That would be so cool.”

He laughs loudly at my obvious excitement.

“It’s not as fun as it sounds actually,” he explains. “It’s a lot of hard manual labor and poor working conditions and I live in a _tent_.”

I scoff at his attempts to deter my excitement.

“Killjoy,” I accuse with a playful glare. He chuckles.

“Now I see why you got matched with Fred,” he says. I crinkle my nose at the unfortunate change in topic.

“Let’s talk about something more enjoyable,” I suggest. “Like the current suicide rate.”

He laughs again and George jumps into the conversation, obviously having been listening in.

“Aww c’mon Cor. You have to give him a chance sometime you know,” he says, elbowing me lightly in the side. I scowl at him.

“I don’t _have_ to actually. Sure it would make life easier, but I don’t _have_ to,” I insist stubbornly. “And don’t call me that.” George rolls his eyes.

“Dinner’s ready! Everyone to the kitchen please!”

I turn away from George and Charlie both and immediately head to the kitchen, suddenly feeling antisocial. I’m the first one at the magically enlarged table and I pick one of the transfigured seats in the corner farthest away from the door. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley still manage to greet me when they come in along with Bill, Hermione, Percy, and Ginny.

Fred comes in last and to my dismay it seems that everyone purposely avoided the seat beside me so he is forced to sit there. He sits stiffly beside me without turning in my direction and without any sort of greeting and I do the same. I can already tell that it’s going to be a very long and awkward meal, no matter how good my mum’s pot roast is.

“Hey I know you!” Fred suddenly says loud enough to gain the attention of the entire table. He’s looking at Jon who is sitting across the table from me. Jon goes suspiciously pale and begins shaking his head emphatically. I narrow my eyes. Something is going on here.

“No. No you-,” but Fred speaks over Jon’s feeble protests.

“Yes I do,” Fred states confidently. “You were at the final battle. I saved you from a Death Eater that had you pinned.”

I feel the blood drain from my face at the words. It can’t be true. Jon stayed behind. He stayed with Rylie and Seb and kept them safe. I would’ve known… I look at Jon and he’s staring fearfully and shamefaced at me. When we make eye contact he drops his eyes to his lap and that’s when I know it’s true. That he _lied_ to me.

“You went to Hogwarts?” I ask, my voice a deadly calm that I don’t feel. On the inside I’m shaking with rage. He looks up guiltily into my eyes, but then he straightens his spine, adopts a cool expression and nods. This lack of remorse only serves to fuel the burning rage in my chest.

“You _left_ Seb and Rylie, knowing mum and dad wouldn’t be able to stop them from following you?” I demand, losing some of the calm and allowing a small portion of my anger to show. He drops his eyes again and the guilty expression resumes its residence upon his features. My eyes flick to Seb and Rylie on either side of him and see that their features are reflecting the same things. My jaw drops.

I shoot to my feet, knocking my chair back an entire foot behind me. My hand unconsciously moves to cover my gut where I swear I can feel the icy dagger of betrayal.

“You _all_ went?” I ask, my voice traveling up to an embarrassingly high pitch. I don’t need to read any more of their expressions to know it’s true. “You all could have _died_!” I exclaim in shocked outrage.

“You could have too and you still went,” Seb points out, ever the Gryffindor to speak up even in the face of my temper.

“I had no choice!” I hiss. “I had a duty to uphold.”

“So did we! It’s our world too and it’s up to _all of us_ to fight for it,” Seb defends stubbornly.

“But it’s _my_ job to protect you,” I burst.

“No it’s not.” Rylie’s small voice stops my next words in my throat. She’s never one to step into an argument unless it’s something she will not relent on. “You can’t protect us forever Cor. We have to make our own decisions. I’m sorry we lied to you and went behind your back but arguing would have wasted time that we didn’t have.”

I stare at her silently for several moments and work my jaw. My eyes flit to Seb and Jon and I see the same sadness and yet steely resolution reflected in their faces. I grab my chair and collapse back into my seat angling my face towards my plate. I still feel hurt and betrayed and so, so angry, but I’m logical enough to know that nothing will come from continuing to argue on this. And now is hardly the time for it anyway. The Weasleys surely think I’m a ticking time bomb as it is.

After a tense moment of silence my mum clears her throat and gets to her feet.

“How about some dinner?” she asks with a small uncertain smile. “Cora would you mind helping me bring out the dishes?”

I flick my wand at the dishes filled with food waiting on the countertop and guide them so they float across the room and then come to a gentle stop at varying lengths down the table. My mum’s lips thin and she gives me a hard stare. I wince.

“Sorry mum,” I mumble, even though I know her and dad must have been in on keeping this a secret from me as well. It churns my stomach knowing that my entire family was united in keeping something of this magnitude from me. Mum sighs and resumes her seat.

“You’re forgiven,” she responds wearily and I know she means for the scene I made as well as being deliberately belligerent just now.

From then on dinner is a slightly reserved affair as far as I can tell. The Weasley’s carry on as they usually do, but Jon, Seb, Rylie, and I keep to ourselves and our plates. George tries to pull me out of it by lobbing soggy carrots over Fred at me, but I give him an unamused and maybe slightly miserable stare and he stops.

The best thing I can say about our first dinner with both families together in their entirety is that at least the food was good. Finally, everyone finishes and moves to retire to the sitting room to converse before our guests leave for home. I offer to do the dishes while they all go. Dad protests at first, but mum hushes him and leads him to the sitting room saying something about letting me get my head back on straight.

I’m relieved at her interference. Honestly I don’t think I would survive another hour of smalltalk without food to focus on. Not in the state I’m in.

I summon all the dirty dishes and pile them on the counter beside the sink while it fills with hot soapy water. Yeah I know I could just magic them all clean with a spell, but there’s something soothing about doing them by hand every now and again. I know. I never thought I would say that about washing the dishes either.

I flick my wand at the door, putting up a sound barrier, and then flick it again at the radio. Music comes blaring out, but it’s some oldies station that my mum likes. I swivel my wand back and forth until the station changes to something good. I grin as mine and Sam’s old favorite song from 4th year plays and I beginning humming along while scrubbing the dishes with an old rag.

As always humming turns to quietly singing under my breath, which turns to singing normally, and then to belting out the lyrics at the tops of my lungs with added dance moves. Oh and I should let you know now that I’m a terrible dancer. Like, really bad. I’ve been told I look like a seizing flamingo, but that was by Sam so you know, take it for what you will. She _is_ just a mean Slytherin after all.

Soon enough I’m three-fourths of the way done with washing and am rocking out to One Week by Barenaked Ladies. You know the one.

> _‘It's been one week since you looked at me._
> 
> _Threw your arms in the air and said "You're crazy”._
> 
> _Five days since you tackled me,_
> 
> _I've still got the rug burns on both my knees._
> 
> _It's been three days since the afternoon,_
> 
> _You realized it's not my fault_
> 
> _not a moment too soon._
> 
> _Yesterday you'd forgiven me,_
> 
> _And now I sit back and wait til you say you're sorry’._

Only I don’t know all of the words so when I sing it, it sounds more like…

> _"Humahumahumahumahumahuma FLYING OFF THE BACK SWING_
> 
> _Humahumahumah mlormoon Humnahumahuma BOOOM ANIME BABES_ _THAT MAKE ME THINK THE WRONG THING!_
> 
> _Humnahuma help it if I THINK YOU’RE FUNNY WHEN YOU’RE MAD,_
> 
> _Humna hard not to smile THOUGH I FEEL BAD_
> 
> _Humnahuma guy who LAUGHS AT A FUNERAL_
> 
> _Can't understand what I mean?_
> 
> _WELL YOU SOON WILL"_ _  
> _

I have no doubt that you all know _exactly_ what I mean.

As I’m singing and shaking my hips I plunge my rag down into a glass and manage to spray myself full in the face with a wave of water from inside the glass. I can’t be the only one to have ever done this so you have no right to laugh at me. I’m sputtering and mopping my face with a towel when I _swear_ I hear a noise coming from the door to the sitting room.

I whip around, but no one’s there. After several seconds of staring at the door waiting for it to move to no avail I give up on waiting and turn down the radio. I don’t feel comfortable enough to continue my rock out session now. I’m paranoid that someone is going to walk in on me, which I’ll admit I probably should have been concerned about before. Quickly, I finish washing the dishes by hand and then magically dry and put them away.

I’m feeling a lot better than I was earlier (music seems to have that effect on me), but I’m still not looking forward to going out there. Like at all. There’s just something about getting stabbed in the back by your whole family that makes you feel a bit antisocial I guess. Regardless, I resolve myself to try and act as normal as possible.

I flick my wand at the radio to turn it off and it promptly explodes in an acrid cloud of smoke. I jump and curse loudly. Then I put out the small fire with my wand and hastily rip the cord from the wall. That being done, I perform a nifty little spell that sucks the smoke cloud into my wand like it’s a vacuum before it can reach the smoke alarms. Once that crisis is averted I examine the melted mass of plastic and curse again. That’s the eleventh radio I’ve destroyed since I’ve come of age.

With that thought in mind I take down my sound barrier and slip into the sitting room. Everyone seems to be enjoying themselves, laughing and joking. I see mum and dad sitting beside Mr. and Mrs. Weasley on the couch having a deep conversation about something and make a beeline for them to inform my mother of the news.

“Mum I blew up your radio again. I’ll replace it,” I half shout from several feet away. Mum sighs in exasperation as she looks at me.

“Again? When are you going to learn that you can’t control them with magic Cora? How many have we been through now? Seven?” she asks.

“Eleven,” I mumble under my breath. She sighs in exasperation again, but smiles fondly at me.

“What am I going to do with you?” she asks.

“Love me. Feed me. Never leave me,” I quote Garfield obligingly  with a grin. She rolls her eyes like she wasn’t totally expecting the response. I know she was. Then she pats the armrest beside her invitingly.

“Come have a seat,” she says.

I raise my eyebrows and scan my eyes over her, my father, and the elder Weasleys. I balance myself on the armrest and tuck my legs up underneath me so I’m cross legged. If this is wedding talk I’m outta here.

“Steve honey, what were you saying?” Mum asks dad after I’ve made myself comfortable. Dad leans forward to better address the Weasleys.

“I was just asking what exactly happened with Fred. I mean he seems to be in perfect health, but you were absolutely certain that he was dead, right?”

Mr. and Mrs. Weasley nod looking sad at the reminder of those dark days.

“He _was_ dead,” Mr. Weasley insists. “It was confirmed by our medi-witch at the school. He wasn’t breathing and had no pulse for almost an entire day. No one knows how it happened. It’s a miracle.”

Mrs. Weasley is sniffling now and holding back tears. Mr. Weasley pulls a comforting arm around her shoulders though he looks pale and distraught himself.

“When did you notice his body was missing?” My dad asks gently.

“We didn’t,” Mr. Weasley says with wide eyes. “We only know what happened because we examined Fred’s memories. They abruptly stop when the wall collapsed in the final battle and then suddenly start again while he’s inside his coffin.”

I blanch thinking how terrifying that would be.

“How did he get out?” mum asks in a horrified whisper.

“He panicked when he realized that he was trapped and accidentally used magic to unlock and burst the lid open. We talked to him after watching his memories and he said that he was so confused and disoriented and panicked at the time he didn’t even recognize that he’d been in a coffin.” Mr. Weasley stops his story for a moment to mop his sweaty brow.

“How long after he was pronounced dead was this?” my dad uses the break to ask. Mr. Weasley looks contemplative.

“Less than a full 24 hours,” he answers after giving it some thought. “It must have been around 18 to 20 hours after that. The lid fell shut after he climbed out which is why we never knew and he left the funeral home and took to the streets trying to find George. He was still so bewildered and disoriented that he didn’t fully realize where he was,” Mr. Weasley swallows noisily, obviously having a hard time thinking about the trauma his son had to go through. “He was running around and grabbing muggles and shaking them by the shoulders yelling at them, asking where George was, what happened to the battle? Where’s my wand? I need my wand.”

Mrs. Weasley shudders and Mr. Weasley tightens his grip on her shoulders.

“It’s no wonder the muggles called the pleas- police,” Mrs. Weasley says tearfully. “He was acting like a mad man. I don’t blame him of course, but there you have it.”

My mum snags the box of tissues from the coffee table and offers them to Mrs. Weasley. She smiles wobbly and gratefully pulls out a couple tissues.

“So then the police came and they had to take him to the mental home?” my mother asks. Mr. Weasley nods.

“Yes. It’s lucky that they took him to the mental home rather than jail with the way he was fighting with the police to get away to find George,” Mr. Weasley says. Mrs. Weasley shudders again.

“Oh don’t even say those things,” she whimpers.

“Sorry dear,” Mr. Weasley says patting her arm. “Since we’ve found Fred again we’ve had him checked over at St. Mungos and they say he’s in perfect health. They’re stumped. They don’t understand how he can be alive at all…” He trails off and we fall into silence while all around us the Weasley children bicker and laugh and joke. My dad is sitting silently with a look of deep thought and concentration upon his face. Finally he looks up and regards the Weasleys carefully.

“I have a theory,” he says slowly. “It is farfetched and sounds stark raving mad, but it fits.”

“We’re listening,” Mr. Weasley says interestedly. No doubt eager for a feasible opinion.

“There is a phenomenon in the muggle world,” dad begins slowly. “It’s extremely rare and no one has been able to puzzle out how it’s even possible, but it has happened against all odds. It’s called Lazarus Syndrome. There are cases of people being pronounced dead and then waking up minutes or even hours later. Usually it’s after CPR is administered and then ceased, but there are cases where the cause of death was some kind of trauma and then the patient just woke up some time later.”

“Lazarus Syndrome.”

I jump. At some point in the conversation George came over to stand beside my perch without my noticing. He smirks at me, obviously noticing my start.

“It does fit,” comes Fred’s voice from directly behind me.

“ _Jesus_ ,” I hiss while jumping again so badly that George places a steadying hand on my shoulder to keep me from falling. Damn sneaky twins.

“Cora,” mum admonishes me with a pointed look.

“Sorry mum,” I say quickly and then turn to my dad. “So what you’re saying is that I have to marry a zombie?”

My dad laughs.

“Not quite,” he tells me.

“But it’s close enough that I could tell people that right?” I ask. He chuckles and shakes his head.

“No not really. Zombies are dead while Fred is very much alive,” he explains. I jut out my lower lip in a mock pout.

“Well I’m going to tell people anyway,” I insist stubbornly. “Hey Seb!” I turn and yell across the room to where he’s watching Jon and Ron play chess. “I’m going to marry a zombie!”

“Sweet!” he yells back. “Where can I get one?”

“You can’t. Limited addition. One of a kind. Available for a limited time only,” I chant back. He shakes his head disappointedly.

“Ah. Oh well,” he laments. “It would just be decomposing all over the place anyhow.”

“ _Your face_ would be decomposing all over the place,” I retort with a grin and then we both laugh. This is our routine. We always insult each other with ‘your face’ jokes. Most of the time they’re pretty lame, but every now and again we get a good one.

“Your face _smells_ like it’s decomposing all over the place,” Seb shoots back.

“Sebastian,” mum turns away from her conversation with Mrs. Weasley to interfere sternly. Seb’s jaw drops.

“Really mum?! You always yell at me and not her! She started it!” Seb complains. I just laugh at his misfortune.

“We all know she loves me more,” I taunt and then leap from the armrest to avoid the swat from my mother that I know is coming.

“Alright you lot,” Mrs. Weasley says, getting to her feet. “It’s time to head home. Cora would you like to come over Wednesday night for dinner?”

“Sure Mrs. Weasley,” I accept gracefully. Mrs. Weasley makes excellent food. She beams at me and just then an owl comes shooting out of the fireplace. I flinch and my parents both start in surprise. The small screech owl flies towards me and my stomach drops as I recognize it.

It perches itself on the arm rest I’ve just vacated and sticks out its leg expectantly. I eye it distrustfully for a long moment before Seb sighs dramatically and stalks across the room to retrieve the letter for me. I don’t do birds. That’s why I had to charm the communication mirrors for me and Sam otherwise she’d never hear from me.

“You really need to get over this ridiculous fear,” he says as he hands me the scroll of parchment. I scowl at him.

“You’re afraid of owls?” George asks looking bemused. I scowl at him too.

“All kinds of birds actually,” Rylie supplies helpfully from the other side of the room.

“Don’t get her started on pelicans!” Jon adds. I glare at all of them. Filthy turncoats.

“Hey pelicans are scary! They have _hooks_ in their _beaks_!” I defend.

“They’re bills actually, not beaks,” Jon corrects me.

“Go fall in a hole,” I tell him while unfurling the scroll. I scan the letter and frown sadly at its contents.

“Mrs. Weasley we’re going to have to reschedule that dinner,” I say distractedly as I finish reading. She frowns and eyes me with concern.

“Is everything alright dear?” she asks. I shrug halfheartedly.

“What are they wanting?” mum asks looking just as concerned.

“Sally’s birthday is Wednesday,” I reply slowly. “They want me to go visit her with them.”

Mum nods gloomily.

“Those poor people. I couldn’t imagine…” she trails off looking distraught and with a jolt I realize she’s probably remembering the hours of waiting in France while _all_ of her children were off fighting in a war, not sure if any of them would make it home.

“Who’s Sally,” George asks.

“A girl…” I answer reluctantly. “She- She’s dead. She died in the final battle and I- I was there,” I say just barely above a whisper.

“Oh I’m so sorry dear,” Mrs. Weasley exclaims sending a reprimanding look at George as though he’s at fault for asking. “Did you know her from school?” I press my lips together and shake my head.

“No. The first time I met her was when she was dying,” I say. Mrs. Weasley finds nothing to say to this and just continues to wear a distraught expression.

“So if you didn’t know her why do they want you to go with them?” Fred asks, somewhat rudely. I find that I don’t have it in me right now to rise to the bait so I opt for honesty.

“Sometimes it helps just to have a listening ear and a third party to simply mourn with you,” I say. “And they’re just happy that she had someone there in the end. That she wasn’t alone.”

Fred looks away, obviously not expecting such a bluntly honest response. Soon after, Mrs. Weasley makes plans to have me over for dinner on Thursday and then the Weasley’s leave single file through the fireplace. Fred refuses to look at me, but George stops and gives me a bone crunching hug before winking saucily and disappearing in a whirl of green flame. Once they’ve all left, mum gives me a hug as well and pats my shoulder.

“You’re a good kid Cora,” she tells me warmly. I smile and head upstairs to my room to reflect on the events of the evening. It seems my life had flipped on its head since meeting the Weasleys.


	10. Angie's Beef

The past two weeks have been the most emotionally draining in my life. First there was finding out about the marriage law. Then meeting my future in-laws and finding out that my fiancé was missing and presumed dead. Then there was the whole fiasco of retrieving said fiancé and catching him up on the major life-altering laws recently passed by the Ministry. After that I lost my job and slapped my former employer and friend. Then I had to apologize. Bleh.

Shortly after I found out that my best friend is gay and then that my entire family has been keeping a huge secret from me and I’ve had to deal trying to forgive them for it for the past several days. Then two days ago I went to a cemetery with a family that I barely know to wish a girl I held in my arms as she died a happy birthday and mourn the loss of her life with them.

I’d rather not get into that now. It’s a whole mess of emotions.

Then yesterday I had dinner with my future in-laws and snipped and quarreled with my fiancé throughout the whole thing (although the food was delicious so there is that silver lining). Now all I want is a night to relax and recharge my batteries, but my future brother-in-law is insisting that I come with him and my fiancé that I can’t seem to stop bickering with and see their joke shop and my best friend is calling for a triple date tonight so I can meet _her_ fiancé and she can meet mine and his twin. All in all, I really need to learn how to say _no_.

So here I am, standing outside the most outrageous building I’ve ever seen (and that’s including the Burrow) beside my stoic fiancé while his brother is inside setting up. Apparently they haven’t had much of a chance to get the shop cleaned up and put back together since Fred came back so it’s still closed, but they’ve been working on it every spare moment until now and are finally ready to start restocking their products.

The doors to the building pop open and George sticks his head out, pausing only to roll his eyes at his twin and me, probably because we’re standing a good five feet apart and looking steadfastly away from each other.

“Well come on in then,” he says, shoving the doors open and gesturing the way in with a dramatic sweep of his arm. I give him a long suffering look and trail in after him.

My thoughts of how awkward this is dissolve at the sight of their shop. It’s not impressive in a big or fancy way, but in an entirely _magical_ way. I can feel the sheer amount of magic in the room buzzing through the air. There are pops and whistles coming from everywhere and there’s so much color it’s overwhelming at first. Then my eyes adjust and I wordlessly go off to pursue gags and jokes and magical products that I couldn’t have imagined in my wildest dreams. And then some that I could have.

“Really?” I ask, my lips twisting in amusement while I hold up a whoopee cushion. George grins unabashed and shrugs.

“Those are actually pretty popular with muggleborns,” Fred says defensively, like I just slammed his dream. I raise my eyebrow at him.

“I’m aware,” I say frostily. Then I grin at George. “I got Seb one for his birthday once. It only lasted a few hours because Jon sat on it and it popped.”

George and I laugh uproariously, mostly because Jon is such a scrawny little stick it’s hilarious that he would be the one to pop it. I wipe a tear from my eye and still chuckling slightly resume my tour through the shop.

“The look on his face was priceless,” I chortle as I look around. I stop at a few things and remark on their ingenuity. Like the Headless Hats and the 10 Second Pimple Vanishing Crème. I ignore the big empty spaces on the shelves that must’ve had to have been cleared out and still need to be replenished. Then I come to an end cap loaded with boxes all in different colors.

“Daydream Charms?” I ask as I pull one of the boxes down and begin reading it. My eyes widen as I taken the complexity of the item.

“This is really impressive!” I exclaim, as I shuffle through several more of the boxes. “And you have different varieties! This is so cool. How did you do this? Do you have more stuff like this?”

Then I gasp and swivel to face George (who is grinning like a maniac) and point my finger accusingly at him.

“This is why you’re so adamant about me going into Experimental Charms!”  I reproach. “You want me to learn their secrets and then share them with you!”

George laughs and gently pushes my finger out of his face.

“Well that would certainly be a major benefit wouldn’t it?” he says, eyes sparkling with mirth. “And I won’t lie and say it hasn’t crossed my mind, but I do honestly think that you would be brilliant at it.” I narrow my eyes at him and chew my lower lip thoughtfully. Then shake my head.

“Nope. Sorry. I can’t believe a word you say on the subject now. You’ve got ulterior motives,” I dismiss. “I’m not best friends with a Slytherin for nothin’ you know.” Fred scoffs as I say this.

“All the more reason _we_ shouldn’t trust _you_ ,” he says. “A muggleborn Hufflepuff who’s friends with a Slytherin? It’s unnatural.”

“Please try to refrain from voicing your opinions Fredrick,” I simper, firmly grappling my anger and tucking it under the surface of my words. “The idiocy spewing from your mouth is destroying my brain cells.”

Fred all but growls at me, but George steps in before things can get too out of hand.

“Alright kids. Break it up. You guys will have to drop this petty feud and start trying to get along sometime, you know?” he says. I see the logic there, but I can’t help myself. I scowl at the pair of them and turn away to go look through the shop some more. Unfortunately the light mood I had fallen into has left me. I can’t even bring myself to get excited over any of the other products that I might have otherwise.

All I can think is that Fred helped create these things and that makes them less fantastic somehow. Like they’ve been tainted by him. Really I know that I’m being petty and that I just don’t want to credit Fred with anything positive. Even if he would deserve that credit.

We’re heading out the door of the shop when I remember that I was meant to invite the two of them to this triple date thing tonight. Great. I think. The last thing I want after the scene in there is to invite Fred to come hang out with my _Slytherin_ friend and me. But I promised I would and I don’t go back on my promises.

“Er by the way,” I start out smoothly. “Sam invited us all and Angelina to her place tonight for a, uh, get to know you kind of thing. Her and her fiancé will be there.” George grins mischievously while Fred frowns.

“Course we’ll come,” George says at the same time Fred says, “We’ll think about it.” They glare at each other for a moment and have a seemingly telepathic conversation in which George comes out victorious.

“What time and where should we meet you?” George asks, smirking while Fred scowls with his hands in his pockets.

“Six. And just floo to my parents’ house and we’ll go from there,” I respond and then turn to Fred with a glare. “Couldn’t you have argued your case a little better?” I snap, unreasonably irritated that he couldn’t convince George that they shouldn’t come. Fred glowers at me.

“If you didn’t want to do this why did you even invite us?” he demands. I glare back wordlessly. There’s no way I’m telling him that I have issues with telling people I care about ‘no’.

“None of your business,” I say at the say time George says, “She can’t say no.”

I turn my glare onto him and he stares sternly back until I give in and look away with a defeated sigh.

“ _Couldn’t you have argued your case a little better?_ ” Fred mocks in a high pitched voice.

“Go jump off a cliff,” I grouse and then walk away down the alley.

 

|10|~*~|10|

 

A few hours later we’ve all flooed into Sam’s apartment where she and Ava Walters are already waiting. Ava’s pretty in a petite brunette kind of way and seems as nice as I remember, but I’m prepared for a long and incredibly awkward evening regardless. With me and Fred not being able to stand the other for any length of time and the daggers Angelina has been shooting at me since she stepped out of my parents’ fireplace, it couldn’t be anything but.

As soon as we’ve all arrived Sam jumps forward to do introductions and be introduced herself in the naive hope that we’ll all get comfortable with one another and start having fun. Meanwhile Fred and I are pretending the other doesn’t exist, I’m avoiding Angelina’s armor piercing glare, and George looks incredibly awkward standing in between his brother and his brother’s ex-girlfriend who is now his fiancé. And all three of them are staring at the long purple scar on the left side of Sam’s face. I scowl. I hate it when people stare at her like she’s some kind of circus freak.

“Yes, yes. Sam has a scar on her face and George is missing an ear,” I point out bluntly. “Now that we’ve established these facts can we move on to the part where we start being polite to each other?”

“He’s missing his ear?” Sam and Ava ask at the same time Fred asks, “You know about his ear?”

I smirk playfully at Sam and Ava.

“Aww how cute you’re already speaking in unison,” I coo. Ava flushes, but looks pleased and Sam just sticks her tongue out at me as is her custom.

“And yes I know about his lack of ear,” I snap at Fred in a total 360. “It’s a gaping hole in his head. It’s kinda hard to miss.” This is a lie really. George purposely keeps hair long to hide his missing ear, no doubt so he and Fred can continue getting up to their mischief.

Angelina apparently also sees the flaw in this statement and scoffs, mumbling something about having to be in a compromising position with George to notice it. I roll my eyes and ignore her, deciding to be the bigger person here. I’ve never had much patience for petty girl insults and insinuations. Something about having three siblings kinda hardens you to insults, me to the point where they’re more like terms of endearment depending on who I’m talking to.

After the introductions have been officially made there’s an uncomfortable silence where I glare at Sam, mentally telling her _‘I told you this was a terrible idea’_. She glares back thinking something along the lines of _‘It hasn’t failed yet’_. I roll my eyes. _Here goes nothin’_.

“So the plan for the night is to devour some pizza that Ava and I ordered and to stay in and watch a movie or two,” Sam announces to our little clan. I let my shoulders sag slightly in relief. Movies are good. You’re not allowed to talk during movies. Maybe this won’t be such a disaster after all. Famous last words.

While we’re waiting for the pizza to arrive we decide to play a game. Unfortunately we can’t decide which one.

“Monopoly? Really?” I snort derisively upon hearing Sam’s suggestion. “Monopoly has been tearing families apart for like 50 years. Half of us can hardly get along as it is. Now _Uno_ on the other hand-,”

Sam cuts me off with a groan. “But I _hate_ Uno,” she complains. I smirk.

“And _I_ love it.”

“How about Charades?” she suggests. I give her a look.

“And how would we split the teams?” I ask. She bites her lip and looks at all of us standing awkwardly apart.

“ _Sorry!_ is a good game,” I say when she fails to respond. She rolls her eyes.

“ _Sorry!_ is only a four player game and we’ve got six people,” she reminds me.

“Oh yeah. Ooo! I’ve got it! Scattergories!” I exclaim and then immediately start for the game closet. Sam groans.

“Scattergories?” she whines.

“Yes. It has been decided. No arguments,” I say as I pull the game down, almost bringing a cascade of boxes down on my head. I manage to shove the rest back in and avoid catastrophe.

Why does Sam, a Pureblood, have all of these muggle games you ask? Why because of my wonderful influence of course. I also introduced her to movies which she now loves so much that when she moved out of her parents’ place she got a flat in a muggle neighborhood so that she could have electricity and a T.V.

I plop myself down in the middle of the living room floor and begin setting up the game and passing out the necessities while Sam goes over the rules for everyone else. Basically you have a card that has 12 different things listed on it and a die that has letters on it excluding I think X and maybe Q.

You roll the die and whatever letter it lands on you have to use to think up a noun for each listed item that fits the description before the timer runs out. Then once the timer stops you all compare your answers and if anyone got the same answer as someone else both or all have to cross it out. Then you total up the points you received and the person with the most points at the end of all 12 lists wins. And don’t forget to roll a new letter for each list.

For example this would be part of one list with the answers filled in:

 

Vegetables: Peas   
Things you throw away: Pieces of Paper   
Occupations: Photographer   
Appliances: Percolator   
Cartoon Characters: Pluto   
Types of Drink: Pumpkin Juice

 

Et cetera. And if you use the letter more than once, like in number two where P heads off Pieces and Paper, you get a point for each word beginning with the chosen letter. But if you try something like Pretty Pink Paper then you only get the one point for Paper. You can’t just throw on a bunch of adjectives and expect to be rewarded. That’s cheating.

I’m sure you’re thinking that it wouldn’t have been fair to the Purebloods to have to try and think up muggle appliances and things, but remember this is _Sam’s_ game. So she and I have long ago edited the game to be more wizard friendly. For instance, we took out ‘appliances’ and replaced it with ‘spells’. And instead of ‘Things at a Football Game’ we replaced football with Quidditch. That kind of thing.

We play for about a half hour before the pizza arrives. Everyone except me is relieved to give up the game (I was absolutely stomping them) in exchange for food. We’re munching our pizza and actually seeming to get along when Angelina makes another ‘whore’ comment while glancing in my direction like she has been all night. Finally I’m done trying to be the bigger person and ignore her.

“Is that supposed to like hurt my feelings or something?” I ask loudly, gaining her attention. “Cuz I really couldn’t give a rat’s fart what you think of me.” She looks surprised that I’m finally acknowledging her at first and then her cheeks tint angry pink through her dark skin.

“Well maybe it should concern you what _everyone_ is thinking,” she says snidely. I raise my eyebrows.

“Cora,” Sam warns quietly. I ignore her and everyone else who is sitting in shocked silence watching the two of us have it out.

“By “everyone” do you mean _you_? That’s a bit conceited isn’t it?” I retort. She clenches her jaw and her long brown fingers curl into fists. “What’s your problem with me anyway? You were fine that first night at the Weasley’s.”

She expels a tract of air from her nostrils and subconsciously flicks her eyes towards George. I furrow my brow and then round my mouth in an ‘O’ of surprise as I suddenly get it.

“You think I’ve got a thing for _George_?” I ask, my tone conveying the absurdity of the notion. “Or is it that you think George has a thing for me?” Angelina says nothing.

“Let’s go to the living room while these two work this out,” Ava suggests quietly, ushering the others out of the kitchen, leaving Angelina and I quite alone.

“Well which is it?” I demand once the others are gone. Angelina scrutinizes me carefully before she answers.

“I don’t know,” she finally says in a calm, rational way. “Either one I guess.” For a moment I’m stumped at her change of demeanor and then allow my raised hackles to drop. If she’s going to be calm and rational then I am too.

“Well you don’t have anything to worry about on either front,” I tell her. “George and I are just friends. I don’t think of him that way and I know he doesn’t think of me that way.”

Angelina doesn’t look convinced. “How do you know he doesn’t? It seems like he’s around you all the time while he avoids me like Spattergroit,” she says miserably. I frown in thought and hop up on the counter while I think.

“Well,” I say slowly. “There’s the fact that he’s been doing nothing but try and shove me and Fred together. If he was interested in me then I hardly think he’d be doing everything he has been. It’s annoying actually. The wanker. I also think, this is just a guess, but him avoiding you probably has a lot to do with you being Fred’s ex.”

I’m surprised to see that Angelina looks surprised when I say this.

“But Fred broke up with me!” she says. “Why would he think that Fred would have a problem with it?”

“Weeelll,” I reply slowly. “Maybe that’s not what he’s thinking. Maybe he’s thinking that _you_ still have feelings for Fred and he feels like he’s the second choice, second best in your eyes to his brother and that you’d rather be with Fred, but you have to settle for him.”

Angelina gaps at me, cogs whirring away in her head as things begin clicking into place.

“Oh my Godric,” Angelina finally murmurs looking horrified.

“But he’s not!” she suddenly shouts looking at me urgently. “It’s always been George! At school though he just never seemed interested, whereas Fred… Well it’s stupid really. Incredibly stupid, but I thought, well if I can’t have one maybe the other… Ugh. It was so stupid of me. To ever think of them that way. That’s why Fred broke it off with me. Because he knew that I had a thing for George, not him. Do you really think Fred never told him? About the reason we broke up I mean?”

I blink in surprise at the onslaught of information.

“Well it certainly seems that he hasn’t,” I respond. Angelina seems to have been hit by an epiphany.

“I have to go talk to him!” she cries. She’s halfway out the kitchen door when she stops and whirls around to pull me into a surprise hug attack. I sit there stiffly for the instant it takes for the hug to take place and then Angelina is off again and out the door. I decide to wait the length of time it takes to eat another slice of pizza before following her. You know, in case of more hug attacks.

Once I’ve finished I poke my head out the kitchen and check to make sure the coast is clear. It seems safe with just Ava, Sam, and Fred in the room so I take a risk and leave the relative safety of the kitchen to occupy a place on the couch that unfortunately, I must share with Fred.

“Well whatever you said to her seems to have worked things out,” Sam says from the floor in front of the television where she’s setting up a movie. “She bolted in here and fairly near dragged George out into the hallway.” I smirk at the visual. Poor George.

“Yes. It seems that _someone_ failed to mention the cause of their breakup with Angelina to their dear twin, resulting in said twin presumably thinking something along the lines of Angelina thinking he’s second best and that she’s just settling by being with him, further resulting in the twin feeling awkward and unwanted and avoiding Angelina,” I say caustically while eyeing Fred (in hindsight I’m amazed he was even able to follow all that). Fred doesn’t seem to register my tone and instead is staring empty eyed and open mouthed in my direction without seeming to actually be seeing me.

“Merlin!” he suddenly exclaims, jumping to his feet. “I’ve got to go tell him!”

“No!” I jump up and grab his arm to stop him. He stops abruptly and I jerk my hands off of him like I’ve been burned. We stare at each other for a second as we both register that that was our first physical contact with each other. I clear my throat, foolishly hoping it will also clear the air of tension.

“Er- I wouldn’t go out there right now. I’m sure Angelina has it uh- under control. You don’t know what you might be walking in on,” I stutter while jamming my hands in my pockets and looking at my trainers.

“Oh. Er- Right,” Fred says just as awkwardly. “I’ll just… Wait then.”

We resume our places on the couch a good six inches apart, staying firmly in our own territories. No more touching. Sam breaks the uncomfortable silence by snickering.

“Well aren’t you two just adorable,” she coos, imitating me from earlier. I glare at her, but have no words to argue with at the moment. Ava smiles at me and then rescues us all from drowning in awkwardness by asking what movie we’re watching.

“Beauty and the Beast!” Sam answers enthusiastically, flashing the case for her fiancé to see. I groan.

“I should’ve known,” I lament. “Can’t we watch somethi-?”

“No,” Sam interrupts. “You picked the game. I get to pick the movie and I’ve picked Beauty and the Beast.”

“For the hundred thousandth time,” I mutter under my breath. I think I hear Fred stifle a chuckle beside me, but then I decide it must just be gas. He probably ate his pizza too fast.

“Sooo should we start it now? Or…” Sam lets her question die off with a significant glance in the direction George and Angelina departed.

“Let’s just start it,” I suggest after a beat. “Who knows how long they’ll be. Or if they’re even coming back,” I add with a smirk. Again I hear a noise from Fred that sounds like he’s smothering a laugh. I give him a funny look and then decide it must just be me. He doesn’t look feverish or anything. He looks completely normal. Maybe I’m just going crazy.

I’m just saying, it wouldn’t surprise me.

Right then the door opens and George and Angelina come back in looking disheveled and mussed, but happy. I can’t help but to smirk and rib the both of them a bit.

“Have fun you two?” I ask. “Get into any… Compromising positions?”

Angelina flushes still looking pleased while George beams and shoots me a wink. I laugh loudly.

“Get over here,” I say after I’ve gotten ahold on myself. “We- that is to say Sam- has decided on a movie. We were about to start it without you. Oh and do _try_ to watch at least _some_ of the movie rather than sitting there staring romantically into each other’s eyes all night,” I tease, fluttering my lashes for emphasis. Another strange sound comes from Fred and I frown over at him, now sure that he’s coming down with something.

George and Angelina laugh, both obviously in high spirits, and come claim spots on the couch. George plops down beside me and pulls me into a one-armed hug.

“You’re the best,” he murmurs for only me to hear. I let out an exaggerated sigh.

“So I’ve heard.”

George grins at me and then slides over to Angelina and drapes his arm around her shoulders. She drops her head onto his shoulder like it’s the most natural thing in the world and he rests his chin atop her head. They stay that way for the rest of the night.

I have to admit that I’m a bit envious. I’ve never had a _real_ relationship before, not by my standards anyway. Sure I’ve had 3 boyfriends, but they were all meaningless crushes that I quickly discovered had no actual feelings behind them, at least on my part, so they didn’t get very far. None of them lasted more than a month. In fact the first two only made it a week or two before my casual avoidance finally convinced them to dump me. I didn’t even kiss either of those two.

The third though was Jack and we’d actually been friends before we started dating. Unfortunately I realized pretty quickly that friendly was the only way I felt towards him. But since he was my friend first I let him kiss me, a few times, _trying_ to feel something other than friendship. I never did. They were only little pecks but if there was anything there I still should have felt something, right? I never felt a thing other than like I was kissing someone that I was not meant to be kissing.

In the end Sam offered to break up with him for me and I shamefully let her. I still hate myself for it. I hate that I couldn’t gather the courage to talk to him myself. I was only a fifth year at the time but still. I lost a really good friend that day. The next summer his dad got a new job and their family moved to Switzerland, forcing him to transfer to Durmstrang. I haven’t spoken to him since. I haven’t had the courage to have another boyfriend since then either. It’s pathetic. I know.

I must’ve zoned out while reflecting on the past because the movie has already started. Fred and George on either side of me look equally enraptured by the muggle movie magic as the background story to the Beast is unraveled by scenes in stained glass.

“Sam you realize we can’t sing along right?” I suddenly ask just before Belle makes her appearance.

“Why not?” Sam demands from her comfortable place in the armchair with Ava.

“This is their first movie! We can’t ruin it with our terrible singing voices,” I explain. Sam snorts and turns back to the T.V.

“Speak for yourself,” she says.

“You don’t have a terrible singing voice,” Fred says, absent mindedly while watching Belle dart effortlessly through village’s unintentional obstacles.

“How would you know?” I ask suspiciously, but George shushes me and the question goes unanswered. I let it go and soon realize that I’m thoroughly enjoying the movie despite my earlier protests (I mean honestly, it’s Disney. That stuff never gets old). At least I was until Belle gives herself up in her father’s place. Then I frown. This seems awfully similar to certain real life events. I get angrier and angrier as the scene goes on and then as Belle is draped across the bed sobbing the loss of her freedom I can’t take it anymore.

“Okay that’s it. Turn it off,” I command.

“What? Why?” Sam asks, looking confused and bewildered while everyone else looks about the same.

“Oh very funny Sam,” I snap sarcastically. “Don’t think for a second that I don’t see through your little scheme. I suppose I should ask if you’re in on it too.” I demand, turning to George who looks even more bewildered at the accusation.

“What are you talking-?” he starts, but I cut across him.

“The movie!” I exclaim gesturing at the frozen screen. It seems someone had the forethought to pause it. “Girl gets freedom taken away. Is forced to live with boy. First impressions are bad and neither can stand the other for a while. Both are too stubborn to listen to the people around them. Eventually both fall in love despite the circumstances that brought them together and the initial dislike for each other.

“I’m not _stupid_ , Sam. And I don’t appreciate being manipulated, so butt out,” I snap viciously. I notice that even Fred looks troubled now that the plot has been brought to light.

Sam looks desperate and pleading for the teeniest of moments before her Slytherin training kicks in and her mask goes up.

“I was just trying to help Cora,” she tells me. “I just want you to be happy.”

“I don’t appreciate being manipulated,” I repeat through clenched teeth. “And you know this.” Sam sighs.

“Alright. I’m sorry. You’re right and that was wrong of me, but I did have good intentions. Also George had nothing to do with it. It was just me,” she explains calmly.

“Alright,” I say and I just seem to deflate. All the bottled up anger just eeks out of me and leaves me feeling drained and exhausted. “Let’s just… Let’s just watch something else,” I say tiredly while rubbing my forehead.

“Okay,” Sam says carefully like she’s walking on eggshells. “What do you want to watch?”

“I don’t care,” I reply tonelessly as I sink back into the couch. All I want now is to go home, but I can’t tell her that. Despite how angry I am at her, she’s still my best friend and she had her heart set on this being a successful night whether she’ll admit to it or not. It’s not easy being a Slytherin. Real friends are hard to come by.

“And this is what you get for being best friends with a Slytherin,” I mutter to myself under my breath while Sam and Ava pick through the movies. Fred dispels air sharply through his nose.

“What was that?” George asks playfully, elbowing my side. I shove his elbow away, not in the mood.

“Bugger off George,” I say wearily. He frowns in concern, but then thankfully obeys and turns his attention to the pretty girl sitting practically in his lap. I sigh again and pull my knees up so my feet rest on the couch. It’ll be a miracle if I stay awake through the next movie.

“Alright!” Sam suddenly exalts jubilantly. “We’ve decided. It’s going to be Home Alone!”

“One, two, or three?” I question instantly. “Because if it’s three you have to change your mind because they replaced the kid and now it’s a fraud.”

“The first one you nutter,” Sam says looking at me incredulously. “It’s the _best_ one.”

I have no argument for that. She pops in the VHS and before they’ve even left for Paris I’m dead asleep.


	11. Chances

It seems like I’ve barely shut my eyes when suddenly I’m being lightly shaken awake, but when I open my eyes it’s dark and the credits are rolling.

“What?” I croak as I lift my head from… I do a double take and then glance up at Fred’s face to see him looking down at me with a carefully blank expression. I feel heat rise in my cheeks as I shift away from him so that I’m no longer leaning against him practically in his lap. Questions flash through my mind.

_How long was I on him like that?_

_Why didn’t he make me move?_

_Did I drool?!_

Unfortunately I have no answers except to the last one. I discreetly wipe at my chin and feel that it’s dry. At least that’s one less embarrassment to worry about.

“Have a nice nap?” George asks, his eyes sparkling with mirth. I glare at him for his enjoyment of my humiliation.

“I feel like I could sleep for another ten years and still not have gotten enough sleep,” I say through a yawn. “The nightmare,” I say to Sam’s questioning glance. She nods and goes back to rewinding the video.

“They wouldn’t be so bad if I hadn’t gone back to that bloody grave the other day,” I complain. I can’t stop the shudder that creeps down my back and ripples across my frame at the memory of Sally’s soulless eyes staring up at me filled with pain; her blood soaking into my clothes and staining my hands. I physically shake the memory from my head and unconsciously scrub my hands against my jeans. I climb to my feet and stretch.

“I’m going home,” I announce to the room at large. “This was actually kinda fun. We should do it again.”

Sam rewards my words with a brilliant smile that only gets bigger when everyone chimes in in agreement. Everyone except Fred that is. He’s looking at me with that unreadable expression that I don’t have the energy to try and decipher. I look away. George whispers something in Angie’s ear. She looks at him and then me and then back at him and nods. He beams and kisses her full on the mouth.

“I’ll accompany you home Cor,” he says, getting to his feet. I eye him suspiciously.

“Why?” I question. He rolls his eyes.

“I’m not going to force myself upon you or anything. I’m just going to make sure you make it okay. You’re dead on your feet,” he says. I purse my lips.

“I can make it through the floo by myself,” I tell him.

“I know,” he says in exasperation. “I’m just going to follow and then floo home from there.” He raises his eyebrows expectantly and I finally cotton on that he wants to talk to me privately.

“Ooh!” I say. George gives me a look like I’m being utterly transparent.

“You’re impossible,” he says. I grin.

“Well that’s my motto, you know,” I tell him. “Why be difficult when with a little effort you can be impossible.”

“Really?” he asks curiously.

“No,” I say giving him a look to tell him I think he’s dumber than a dead goldfish. “Normal people don’t actually have mottos.”

“Oh. Well, we do,” George says gesturing to Fred. I raise my eyebrows.

“Let’s hear it then.”

“I solemnly swear that I am up to no good,” they chant in unison. I’m silent for a moment as I look uncertainly between the pair of them.

“You know you really shouldn’t do that in public. It’s creepy,” I tell them. George throws back his head and laughs and to my astonishment, so does Fred. I stare at him for and moment and then shake my head.

“I need to get to bed. I’m becoming delusional,” I mutter. George snickers.

“Bye everyone! Nice to meet you Ava. See you Sam,” I call and then toss a dash of floo powder into the fireplace, say my parents’ address, and disappear in whirl of warm green flames. I arrive in my parents’ sitting room and collapse onto the sofa to wait for George. I don’t have to wait long before he’s stepping out of the fireplace and plopping down beside me.

“So what is this all about?” I ask, allowing my head to loll back on the cushion as I look over at him. Now that I’m sitting I’m struggling to stay awake once more.

“I want you to give Fred a chance.”

My head pops up off the cushion to stare at him.

“Don’t give me that look,” he chastises me. “Neither of you has given the other a real chance since the start of all this. I think it’s time you both stopped attacking the other at every opportunity and tried getting to know each other. I think you’ve made some real progress today, but I can’t risk you falling into old habits come the light of day.”

“What do you mean progress?” I ask. He eyes me for a minute and then sighs.

“Well Fred has made some progress anyway,” he amends, ignoring my question. “You’re still being as stubborn as an old goat.”

“Hey!” I complain.

“So could you just promise to try and get along with Fred? Please? For me?” George begs. I glare at him and then look away from his pleading face. Damn him. “All I’m asking is that you don’t pick fights with him all the time and if he tries something don’t rise to the bait. Please?”

I sigh heavily and turn back towards him, my face the very essence of defeat.

“Fine,” I agree reluctantly.

“Yes! Thank you!” George cheers.

“You’re lucky you caught me at a weak moment,” I say, poking my finger into his bicep. George ignores me and stands up to place a dramatic, wet, sloppy kiss to my forehead.

“MUAH!” he says as he does it.

“Gross!” I complain as I wipe his slobber from my face.

“Oh you know you liked it!” George teases with an exaggerated wink. I give him a no nonsense look.

“You behave or I’ll tell Angie you kissed me,” I warn. George chuckles at the empty threat and then sobers quickly.

“You’re really going to try right?” he asks. “You’ll be serious about it.” I roll my eyes.

“I promised didn’t I?” I say through a yawn. George shoots an unamused look in my direction.

“Seriously,” he insists. I sigh and get to my feet.

“George one thing about me is that I never go back on a promise I make to a friend. It’s a Hufflepuff thing. You’ll figure it out,” I tell him. George grins looking relieved. “Now get out of my house. I need sleep.”

“Yes ma’am!” he chants, snapping off a quick salute. Then he winks and returns to the fireplace and a few moments later he’s gone.

 

|11|~*~|11|

 

When I agreed to give Fred a chance I knew it would be hard. I just didn’t think it would be this hard. I swear Fred has become even more insufferable since I stopped fighting back. Every time he opens his mouth it makes me want to punch him. But I promised George so here I am, biting my tongue until it bleeds. Literally.

“I think this pattern would suit you and Fred,” Mrs. Weasley says, holding the infernal binder out to me and Fred. She has stowed clippings of every possible thing under the sun that you could ever think to micromanage in a wedding in that damned thing. I glance briefly at the magazine cut out of a floral arrangement and sigh for the billionth time today.

“Mrs. Weasley it looks fine,” I tell her wearily from my place across from her and to the left of Fred at her kitchen table. “I don’t think either of us cares much for the details,” I say for the thousandth time.

“I care!” Fred refutes for the thousandth time as well. I don’t even look at him for fear of what will escape from between my lips. He’s been like this ever since Mrs. Weasley dragged out that loathsome binder. Every. Possible. Thing. He can disagree with me on he does, even though I can tell that he doesn’t care anymore for these nitpicky details than I do. He’s driving me mad. It’s like he _wants_ me to argue with him.

Mrs. Weasley beams at her son and tugs out the floral picture and sets in in our ever growing pile of cutouts for our wedding. It’s four weeks away and Mrs. Weasley has been going crazy. I swallow a groan and instead idly leaf through our pile of cutouts.

There are pictures of flowers, napkins, silverware, vases, general decorations, lights, table settings, bouquets, boutonnieres, favors, aisle runners, flower baskets, ring pillows, and center pieces. There’s even a magical guestbook that automatically records the names of the guests as they arrive. I frown at the sheer amount of useless _things_ that she thinks we need for our wedding. This doesn’t even include a photographer, DJ, or FOOD; the _important_ things. In my opinion at least.

“Mrs. Weasley this is going to cost a lot of money,” I voice my concerns. She immediately flushes and looks down while Fred stares open mouthed at me.

“Oh my God, no,” I immediately realize my mistake and quickly jump to correct it. “That’s not what I- I just meant that we never had a lot of money growing up so I’ve learned to always be very money conscious. I was just saying that there’s a lot of stuff here that we don’t really _need_. Sure it’s fun to look at, but in the long run it’d be better if we spent our money on other things, wouldn’t it? I’ve just always been a bit of a thrifty shopper I guess.”

Mrs. Weasley frowns and leafs through the clippings much the same way I did.

“I suppose you’re right dear,” she says looking disappointed. “We’d better just scrap these and start over.”

“No, no, no,” I stop her. “It’s alright. Let’s just pick out the things we don’t really need.” I just really can’t stand seeing her so torn up over this.

“The flowers are good. All weddings need flowers,” I say and set them aside into a new pile. “We probably don’t need the favors. We can just get some cellophane and twist ties and wrap up some goodies. Maybe add a little tag with the date on it. And that’ll be a pinch to do with magic. The guest book is cool. We can put that on the bottom of the pile as something we can get if we have money left over. Or maybe someone can donate it as a gift.”

Mrs. Weasley nods eagerly and seems to really get into what I’m doing.

“We’ll need the bouquets and boutonnieres,” she chimes in, adding them to the new pile. “I suppose the center pieces are a bit much though aren’t they?” I grin, glad to see that she’s listening.

“A bit,” I agree. “But we can hang onto that photo and use it as a guide. We can hit up some thrift and second hand stores and see what we can pull together that looks similar.”

Mrs. Weasley beams at the idea and happily adds the photo to the new pile as well. She looks up at me with a blissful smile and I swear her eyes are starting to water.

“Oh go on you two,” she says after a moment. “I’ve seen you staring longingly out the window all morning. Go enjoy the sunshine while it lasts.”

I blink at her for a moment and then beam at her.

“Who am I to argue with the lady of the house,” I say as Fred and I both clamber out of our seats.

“You’re the best mum,” Fred says. Mrs. Weasley gets to her feet as well and pulls me into a motherly hug.

“We are so blessed to have you joining our family. No matter the circumstances,” she tells me. I feel my face heat up and I pat her shoulder a bit, unsure of what to say.

“You be good to her Fred,” she warns after she releases me. He nods in a surprised kind of way and then we both bolt out the door before she can change her mind. We leave her sniffling happily and humming to herself as she continues to sort through her cutouts. As soon as the door shuts behind us I take off running for the field where I can see the others playing Quidditch.

George obviously sees us coming and flies to the ground to greet us. As soon as I reach him I grab him in an out of character hug without slowing down.

“Oof,” he grunts when I knock at the air out of him. He staggers back a step, but otherwise maintains his balance.

“I’m finally free!”  I exclaim and release him from my clutches. He shakes his head in amusement. “I swear all of this wedding talk is slowly devouring my soul.”

George laughs.

“I think we all feel that way,” he says. “But how did you guys get out of there so quickly? Angie and me were stuck in there until after lunch!” he complains addressing me and Fred who has come up behind me.

“Yeah!” Ron agrees, flying down to land beside us closely followed by the rest of the family excluding Hermione and Percy. “Me and Hermione were stuck in there for ages!” I shrug innocently.

“I honestly have no idea. She just went all misty eyed and then turned us loose,” I tell them. Fred scoffs.

“That’s not true,” he disagrees. I clench my jaw and refuse to turn and look at him. “Cora here flattered mum to the point that poor mum was so love struck she couldn’t hold her prisoner any longer. I was released by default.”

I roll my eyes, but hold in my argument even though I did no such thing.

 

|11|~*~|11|

 

Day 4 of my promise to George isn’t going any better than the last three. Mrs. Weasley has been dragging me, Fred, George, and Angelina all over Diagon Alley and muggle London today in search of wedding things. I’m absolutely knackered and would love nothing better to go home and collapse in my bed and never move again, but no. I’m stuck here trying not to rip into Fred Weasley while he argues with me about the _color of my dress_ of all things.

“Please try and be reasonable Fred,” I say through gritted teeth as pleasantly as I can while sending ferocious looks in George’s direction as he and Angelina pleasantly browse the racks of dresses, completely oblivious to my pain. “There is no way I am going to have anyone _pay_ to special order a _plaid_ wedding dress.”

“Why not?” Fred demands. “It’s always been my dream to have a plaid themed wedding and it just won’t be complete if the _bride_ isn’t participating. You’ve already said you don’t care what you wear, so why are you arguing with me on this?”

 _Because it’s an outrageous request and will cost a small fortune!_ I rage at him in my head. I grind my teeth one more time and then release my breath and my anger all at once and smile.

“Alright fine,” I agree suddenly. Fred looks totally floored by my abrupt change in tune.

“What?” he asks. “Fine? Really?” I shrug and nod.

“Yeah,” I say in an easy tone. “It’s like you said, I don’t care what I wear and you clearly do. The only real problem is the frivolous spending and there’s simple solution for that really.”

“There is?” he asks.

“Yes. _You_ pay for the dress,” I respond matter-of-factly. I conceal my inner smirk of satisfaction; sure that I’ve finally had him out of his charade. There’s _no way_ he’s actually serious about this and that means that there’s no way he’ll be willing to drop that kind of money on it. I watch his face carefully for a minute as he puzzles this out and try valiantly to hide my smirk until victory is well and truly mine.

“Okay,” he finally agrees. My jaw drops in complete astonishment. No. Way. He’s _serious_ about this! And he’s going to have me looking like a fool at my own wedding. That is _not_ happening. I set my jaw and prepare to out stubborn him. _My specialty_.

“Well good,” I say. “Now that that’s settled, we need to decide what _you’re_ wearing. I’ve always had a thing about marrying a man wearing ducks.”

“Ducks?” Fred asks nonplussed.

“Yeah ducks,” I insist. “You know like a print of little rubber ducks all over his dress robes. Neon orange ducks. On a purple robe. It’s just what I’ve always imagined.”

Fred stares at me for a minute.

“Well what about money? I thought you didn’t want anyone spending that kind of cash on anything?” he asks. I shrug a bit.

“Well it’s worth it for your dream to become reality, right?” I say. “ _You_ know what I’m talking about with the whole plaid thing. And I’ll pay for your robes out of my savings to be fair.” My _savings_. The money that I’ve been saving for _years_ so that I can have enough to drop on a down payment and first few months’ rent for a flat for myself when I get the chance. I’m going to spend it all on rubber ducky printed robes to prove a point and settle a score.

Fred shrugs a bit.

“Alright. Yeah I guess I do,” he says looking dazed. I stare at him for a moment and then just have to walk away. I have no idea what just happened, but I’m pretty sure our wedding photos will make the front page of the Quibbler.

 

|11|~*~|11|

 

I am going to _kill_ Fred Weasley. Apparently trying to get me to fight with him by contradicting me all the time wasn’t enough. He’s stepped up his game and today he _pranked_ me. Ha ha. Yeah keep laughing, but you weren’t the one stuck spouting out the most ridiculous sayings all night while meeting your brother’s future in-laws. I don’t know how he did it, but right now I really don’t care, because I’m going to _kill_ him.

I stomp into the Parkees’s backyard now that dinner is finally over and disapparate while the rest of my family uses the floo. Why didn’t I floo as well, you ask? Well because, _“It’s difficult to choose between two blind goats,”_ doesn’t translate well into, “93 Diagon Alley”. And yes, I’m going to the twins’ flat to give them a piece of my mind. I’ve held my tongue long enough. George can’t possibly expect me to just let this go.

I appear in Diagon Alley outside of Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes with a loud crack. Then, just in case the sound of my apparation didn’t alert them, I summon a Patronus to tell them to come let me in (George finally taught me how). Thankfully the spell only requires me to focus and _think_ the message I want to send, so I don’t have to try and say it out loud. My German Shepherd bursts from my wand and to my surprise goes straight through the front door rather than up to the flat’s window like I’d expected.

A moment later the doors open and I see Fred, George, and my Patronus standing on the other side. The glowing silver dog trots over to me and plops down on his behind panting proudly at a job well done. I give him an affectionate scratch behind the ears and he dissolves into a fine silver mist. I then turn my attention to the grinning boys in the doorway.

“Cora darling what brings you here so… unexpectedly?” George asks with a shit eating grin.

“Can’t get enough of us I suppose,” Fred continues, the mirror image of his twin.

I bare my teeth at the two of them and then shoulder past them and lead the way to their flat, smoldering in frustration. Obviously they are well aware of why I’m here and have been completely expecting me.


	12. Getting Along?

I’m standing impatiently in the center of Fred and George’s humble sitting room while the pair of them slowly amble their way into the flat. Fred makes a show of slowly shutting the door behind him and then they turn towards me and smirk in unison. I bare my teeth and gesture to my throat.

‘ _Fix it_ ,’ I mouth at them, knowing that as soon as I try and speak nothing but gibberish will escape my lips.

“Hmm? Sorry what was that Cor? We couldn’t hear that,” George says teasingly. I glare at him and without breaking eye contact draw my wand from my back pocket and begin impatiently tapping it against my palm, letting it throw off orange sparks to show my growing temper. Both twins eye my wand warily and suddenly become much more cooperative.

“Er- Really Cora, let’s not be hasty,” Fred tries to placate me nervously. I bare my teeth and snarl, the sparks flaring red for a moment.

“We can’t  do anything to fix it, but,” George tells me quickly, elbowing Fred.

“It’ll wear off in about 20 minutes or so,” Fred adds. “Or at least it should.”

I glare meanly at him, hopefully conveying that it had better wear off or he and his twin are dead. They gulp. Message received. I drop onto the couch and cross one leg over the other and my arms over my chest and wait. No way am I going to leave until it’s completely worn off with no lasting side effects.

George, seeing that the main danger has passed, plops down beside me and grins.

“So how did it work?” he asks excitedly. I glare half-heartedly at him for a minute and then sigh in defeat and motion for a pen and paper. I just can’t stay mad at George. And besides, this isn’t the first time he’s pranked me. It’s the first time _Fred_ has pranked me, but I’ve already fallen victim to Gabbing Gum, Belching Soda, and a few trick wands via George.

Those ones I just laughed off, but for some reason it feels different being pranked by Fred. With George I know it’s just all in the name of fun, so I’m fine with it. But with Fred… I don’t know what to think. I still get the vibe that he doesn’t like me much and that affects how I feel about him pranking me I guess. Pranks to have a laugh _with_ someone I can handle, pranks to laugh _at_ someone, not so much.

“Say something,” George demands as he shoves the requested writing utensils into my lap. I frown at the parchment, quill, and ink bottle. Seriously, wizards could really learn a thing or two about convenience from muggles. I open my mouth to tell him so.

“Soft words butter no parsnips, but they won’t harden the heart of the cabbage either,” comes out instead. George and Fred throw back their heads and roar with laughter. I try to scowl at them, but my amused grin is determined to make an appearance.

“It’s no use boiling your cabbage twice,” I continue much to the twins’ delight. “What butter and whiskey will not cure, there is no cure for. Men are like bagpipes, no sound comes from them till they’re full.”

Even I can’t stifle my chuckle at the ridiculous things coming out of my mouth.

‘ _Where did you get these??_ ’ I scribble on the parchment and then hand it to George. He’s still chuckling to himself as he reads it.

“They’re old Irish proverbs,” he explains, “We stumbled across them while we were stuck in our Aunt Muriel’s place during the war. She had this whole book of them in her attic.”

“By the looks of the book it used to belong to either Fabian or Gideon,” Fred says.

“Our uncles,” George adds.

“We thought they were hilarious, and that they should most definitely-,”

“Get used in some joke product or another, but-,”

“We weren’t sure how to go about it,” Fred and George explain, one jumping in and finishing out the other’s sentences. I’ve noticed they do this a lot when they get really excited over something; usually something to do with their shop. I just sit back and grin between the two when they do.

“In the end, we were able to alter Veritaserum-,”

“And add a charm to it-,”

“To get this!”

That is pretty impressive. As far as I know Veritaserum is a very finicky potion and doesn’t like being toyed with. They must be either very talented, or very lucky that they didn’t poison themselves… Or me. A concerned look must pass over my face because George jumps in hastily to reassure me.

“Don’t worry! Fred and I always test our products on ourselves before we let anyone else try them,” he explains. This news leaves me torn between concern that they are endangering themselves, and amusement at George’s choice of words. To 'let' people try their products implies that people do so _voluntarily_. If my experience is anything to go by (and I’m willing to bet that it is) then no one ever actually gets the chance to offer to be a test subject. You get _chosen_.

“But anyway,” George continues, ignoring the concerned stare I’m leveling at him. “How are you feeling? Any side effects? I noticed you got a bit, er, angrier over this one than you did the others. Is that from the tonic do you think?” I sigh through my nose and snatch back my scrap of parchment to note down everything I can think of.

‘ _Anger not side effect. Slightly disorienting as potion takes effect, but nothing uncomfortable other than not being able to control your own tongue. I’m assuming Fred spiked my drink earlier with said ‘tonic’? No flavor change or noticeable scent, but slight tingling on tongue. Delaying effect a nice touch. Gives administrator a chance to escape line of fire. An idea though could be to add an Irish accent if possible? Would be funny._ ’

As I write the bit about escaping the line of fire I glare at Fred. I don’t know when he spiked my drink, but it had to have been sometime while we were at the Leaky Cauldron for our lunch date (Mrs. Weasley insisted. It was incredibly awkward) and nothing strange happened until about a quarter hour after I returned home to prepare to meet the Parkees.

George takes my notes and retreats with Fred to the other side of the room where they put their heads together and read my comments, mumbling to each other and pointing out different things and making suggestions. I hear George exclaim over the brilliance of adding an accent and roll my eyes at their behavior. They act like mad scientists, but I can’t help but to think that it’s kind of endearing. Just a little bit. For George.

“Soo,” George says slowly, a teasing grin taking over his familiar features as he and Fred end their little conference, “If the anger wasn’t a side effect, then what was that about? Hmm?”

I glare at him and say nothing. He smirks at me and looks between me and Fred, obviously already knowing what it was about.

“Well if you don’t have a problem with _me_ pranking you, then it must be that you have a problem with _Fred_ pranking you,” George says after a pause. “Now why would that be?”

Again I stay close lipped. Not that trying to answer would work anyway unless the tonic wore off in the last few minutes.

“Could it be that you think Fred might have different intentions than me with our pranks?” George asks, hitting the nail on the head. I don’t know how he can read me so well, but he can. I glare at him for outing my secrets. Sharing feelings and stuff isn’t all that easy for me. Fred is obviously not on the same page as his twin and I judging from the confused looks he’s shooting at George.

“Go ahead and explain yourself,” George says, “It should have worn off by now.”

I’m irritated enough that it gives me courage to answer honestly, although I do avoid looking at Fred.

“Of course it’s different,” I say, and am relieved to hear the words I intended to say come out. “It’s not exactly a secret that Fred doesn’t like me.” I see Fred whip his head around to turn and stare at me from the corner of my eye, but I continue to look away towards George.

“I like you,” Fred blurts out. I snap my head up in surprise and am slightly relieved to see that he looks every bit as uncomfortable as I feel.

“You do?” I ask before I can stop myself. Fred shrugs awkwardly.

“Well yeah. You’re kinda hard not to like,” he mumbles looking over the top of my head. I stare incredulously at him.

“Then why have you been such an arse lately?” I demand awkwardness momentarily pushed aside for the irritation surfacing as I think about the past week and how bloody _difficult_ Fred has been every step of the way. He finally looks me in the eyes appearing to be disbelieving of the conversation we’re having as well.

“Because you stopped arguing with me! Out of the blue! No explanation! I was just trying to get you to act _normal_ again,” he says heatedly. I gape open mouthed at him for a moment and then my eyes flick towards George, who’s obviously struggling to hold in his laughter. Then suddenly everything clicks into place. Jump to my feet.

“You!” I shout while pointing an accusing finger in George’s direction. “You did this on purpose! I spent half of my savings on rubber ducky printed robes because of you! _Non-refundable!_ ” This seems to be the last straw for George. He succumbs to his maniacal laughter and has to sit down in the armchair across from me to avoid falling to the floor. Fred and I are both staring open mouthed in shock and betrayal which only seems to tickle George even more. Every time he catches sight of one of our faces he bursts into renewed giggles. He’s _giggling_. I swear it. _I_ don’t even giggle. Usually.

“He told me to give you a chance and stop arguing with you even if you provoked me!” I explain animatedly to Fred.

“He told me to keep provoking you until I got a reaction!” Fred responds. As a unit we turn to stare at George who is laughing even louder now with tears running down his cheeks.

“You manipulative prat!” I exclaim. Seriously, I just can’t believe the friends I choose to spend my time and energy on.

“You know what this means right Georgie?” Fred suddenly asks, a menacing grin spreading across his face as he gets over the surprise of it all. I begin to grin as well, having an inkling of where he is going.

“Now that we’re privy to the game that’s being played it’ll be two against one,” he says, gesturing between he and I first and then to George alone. George grins up at him, not seeming to be intimidated in the least as he wipes the tears of laughter from his eyes.

“You’ve got to sleep sometime George,” I add with a wicked grin of my own. Fred and I smirk at each other, both already plotting the mischief we can get up to in the name of revenge.

George still just grins at us, not looking concerned at all. In fact he looks rather pleased. But the next topic of conversation drives that observation clean from my mind.

“Well in light of your new partnership maybe it’s time we made the offer we discusse-,” George doesn’t get to finish before Fred cuts him off.

“I hardly think now’s a good time to-,”

“Oh but brother dear I disagr-,”

“No. We just finally-,”

“Exactly! Now that you’ve-,”

“She’ll never-,”

“We won’t know till we try,” George finishes, leaving Fred looking stumped, but still completely unconvinced. Needless to say I am woefully lost.

“Fine!” Fred finally exclaims, throwing his hands up. “But just know this was not my idea,” he says to me.

“What on Earth are you two on about?” I more demand than ask. George grins wolfishly and Fred gives him a look before collapsing onto the couch that I vacated earlier with a sour look on his face and his arms crossed. I raise my eyebrows at him and then turn back to George and wait impatiently for an explanation.

“You see Fred and I-,”

Fred clears his throat loudly and George rolls his eyes but heeds him none the less.

“Pardon me. _I_ had the thought that it would be a good idea if you were to move in here with Fred and me,” George says casually. My jaw drops and I find myself dropping onto the cushion beside Fred.

“ _What?_ ”

“He’s mental isn’t he,” Fred mutters to me. As George steamrolls on, I can’t help but agree.

“You’ll have your own room of course. We have a third that we haven’t so much as looked in in ages. Whatever else you need we can take care of. Unfortunately we’ll all have to share the bathroom seeing as there’s only the one, but we’ll make it work. I mean you’ll have to share with Fred at least for the rest of your lives anyway so might as well get used to it now,” he chuckles to himself. I have to stop him there.

“What in the world makes you think I’d want to move in with the two of you?” I demand. George grins at me, not taking any offense or even seeming surprised by the question.

“Well you’ll be marrying Freddie boy here in a few weeks and everyone always says the only way to really get to know someone is to live with them,” he says matter-of-factly. “So why not? You’ll have to live together eventually anyway and this way you’ll learn faster and know each other better than you otherwise would by your wedding day.”

It actually makes sense in an insane kind of way, but in no way does that mean that I’m okay with it.

“What if we fight more than ever?” I ask. George shrugs looking unconcerned.

“You’re going to be bonded to each other for life. You’ll have to figure out how to co-exist, if not get along at some point,” he says. Again I can see his logic and it bugs me.

“What about Angelina? Is she moving in too? There’s no way we’ll all fit,” I point out. George winces a bit.

“Angie’s parents are pretty… Traditional. There’s not a chance we’ll be living together before we’re officially married,” he explains.

“Well my parents are also very traditional,” I latch onto the excuse like a lifeline. “There’s no way they’ll agree to this. Especially my mum.”

Unfortunately my feeling of victory is short-lived. It withers in the face of George’s triumphant smirk and then dies completely with his next words.

“They’ve already agreed,” he says smugly.

“What?!” Fred and I both shout, pitching forward in our seats. George smiles widely at us showing his teeth.

“Yes, they both agreed that it was a sound idea. I talked to them today while the two of you were at lunch,” he says looking particularly pleased with himself.

“What did you do to them?” I accuse at the same time Fred says, “ _You_ were the reason we had to go on that lunch date!”

Fred’s words completely distract me from my own question.

“That was you?!” I yelp.

“You planted that idea in mum’s head didn’t you!” Fred reproaches. George grins and shrugs.

“Well it really wasn’t hard,” he says. I glare at him, thinking that he should have been put in Slytherin rather than Gryffindor with all the plotting and manipulating that he’s been doing behind everyone’s backs.

“So I sat through one of the most awkward meals of my life for your little scheme?” I ask semi-hysterically.

“Hey it wasn’t _that_ awkward!” Fred protests. I give him a look.

“Really? I don’t know what table you were sitting at, but the one I was at was drowning in awkward juice,” I say. “I kept getting sympathetic looks from the sixteen year old sitting at the table behind you eating _alone_.”

“Oh alright it was horribly awkward,” Fred concedes as he no doubt relives parts of the experience; The unending silence, the horrendously long wait for the food to come, and then us both wolfing down our meals at lightning speed so that we could finally leave. I don’t even remember what I ate. Just kidding. It was fish and chips. I burned my mouth raw because it was so hot, but in my desperation to leave I didn’t care. Much. Then I had to chug down my spiked pumpkin juice to try and soothe my wounds.

“All the more reason for the two of you to get to know each other better,” George sing songs.

“What did you do to my parents?” I repeat my earlier question now that I’ve come to terms with George’s further betrayal and cross my arms over my chest. George rolls his eyes.

“I just _talked_ to them,” he says. I raise my eyebrows disbelievingly and wait for him to elaborate. “Really,” he says, “I told them everything I told the two of you, and yeah they were skeptical at first and I thought your dad was going to throw me out, but in the end they saw reason and agreed that it might be for the best. With the understanding of course, that if you decide you’re too uncomfortable or something you can move right back out.”

“Oh look!” I say sarcastically. “I’m uncomfortable. I’d like to move out. Oh wow, see that? That was easy! We sure did avoid a lot of unnecessary tension!” George gives me an exasperated look.

“Oh c’mon Cor. Take this seriously. _Think about it_ ,” George urges me. I shake my head and press my lips together in agitation. This is just insane.

“I still don’t understand how my parents agreed,” I say after a moment. “They’re both Christians and very much into the belief of abstinence until you’re married. I can’t see them willing to let me live with two guys that I’m not related or already married to.”

I’m surprised to see the tips of George’s ears redden ever so slightly and him rub the back of his neck uncomfortably.

“Well,” he says, “They didn’t have a problem with Fred really since you two can hardly even get along. They knew you wouldn’t do anything with him and that if he tried anything with you that you’d hex him into next week and come straight home.”

 _Buuuut_ … I think to myself as I await further explanation. And then it hits me all at once. I feel the blood drain from my face in horror and then an instant later it all comes back as a bright red flush of mortification.

“Oh God they didn’t…” I trail off as George does an uncomfortable half nod, half shrug thing.

“They thought _you_ and _me_ …” I trail off again. Fred finally catches on to what we’re talking about and jumps up in his seat.

“ _What?_ ” he yelps.

“Gross!” I say probably a bit louder than necessary. “I mean no offense or anything, but _eww_. That’s like Jon or Seb-,” I cut off my own sentence with a shudder. “Yuck.” George nods along in agreement.

“Yeah I was pretty horrified when they brought it up. But don’t worry, I was quick to reassure them that there was only brotherly affection there. Absolutely _no_ attraction whatsoever,” he says vehemently.

“Hey!” I exclaim. “I can be attractive!” George gives me a look.

“You called me gross,” he points out.

“I called sexual interaction with you gross actually,” I correct him. He rolls his eyes.

“And I said-,”

“Can we just change the subject please,” Fred interrupts weakly looking perturbed. George and I immediately stop.

“Right,” George says as we mentally get ourselves back on track. “So yeah that convinced them more than anything I think that it would be okay. Oh yeah and I promised that I’d keep an eye on the two of you and if anything of _that_ nature appears to be cooking up I’m to let them know.”

I groan.

“Oh great so I’m going to have a babysitter,” I complain as I slouch back into my seat. George beams at me.

“So you’re moving in then?” he asks excitedly.

“I didn’t say that!” I hurriedly correct him, shooting back into an upright position. George shakes his head and continues to grin.

“Oh no future sister darling. You said ‘I’m _going to_ have a babysitter’,” he says smugly. “That means that you’re _going to_ be moving in.”

“That is not what I said,” I argue. George chuckles.

“Say what you want, but we all know that I’ve won. And since your parents have already agreed as well, I’ll be expecting you packed up and ready to begin your new life with us tomorrow afternoon. That should be plenty of time,” he says self-assuredly. I scowl at him.

“Last I checked I only had to marry one Weasley twin,” I say argumentatively, because I know I’m on the losing end of the battle. George smirks.

“Ah but you see, we’re a package deal we are. You get one, you get both, right Freddie?”

Fred says nothing, instead looking a bit shell-shocked over the developments of the day. George doesn’t seem to mind though. In fact he looks downright giddy over driving his twin to speechlessness and I have to admit that it is quite the feat.

“Now if you two will excuse me I have a bedroom to prepare for our new _flatmate_ ,” he says and then whisks off down the hall to the closed door at the end on the left humming to himself. I put my head in my hands.

“What did I ever do to deserve this?” I moan.

“You would have been better off if you’d stayed in France,” Fred responds sympathetically while awkwardly patting my back a few times. I snort air out my nose.

“Truer words have yet to be spoken,” I agree with a dramatic sigh and then lift my head and slowly pull myself to my feet.

“I suppose I should go pack?” I say, unable to keep myself from sounding utterly bewildered at the predicament that I’ve suddenly found myself in. Fred makes a sound of agreement.

“Right. I guess I’ll see you tomorrow?” he says, looking just as taken aback as I feel. I nod and head for the door. I stop with my hand on the knob and look back over my shoulder.

“You know your brother is absolutely bonkers, right?”

Fred nods vigorously and then we both grin because we know we wouldn’t want him any other way.


	13. The Boggart

I open the door tentatively to my new room. As anxious as I am to be moving in with the twins, can’t deny that I’m glad to be escaping once more from my parent’s house. Before we had to move to France I shared a flat with my friend Helen from Hogwarts, but once I left she couldn’t afford it by herself so she had to move in with some of her other friends. I haven’t moved in with Sam since we’ve been back despite her many offers because she can be a pain to be around 24/7. There’s no way that we would both survive the experience. So I’ve continued to live with my parents these last few months while I figure out what I’m going to do.

I slowly enter the room and set my magically altered backpack stuffed with all of my belongings on the bed and take a look around. It’s nothing fancy. It’s got a window with a nice view of a brick wall that is the neighboring building. The wallpaper is a faded yellow and the hardwood floor looks old and worn, but seems to be in good condition. The place is clean, but has that musty smell to it that says no one has lived in it for some time, or even opened the door if George is to be believed.

I sigh a bit and start unpacking. I summon my clothes out of my backpack figuring I can get those out of the way easily enough. I shove all of my pants and underthings and half my shirts into the dresser in the corner and then turn to the closet with the remaining shirts and robes that need to hang. I pull open the door and something moves in the darkness within.

I jump back and drop my clothes to the floor. I stare fearfully into the closet while scrabbling behind me for my wand that I left lying on the bed. I grasp it between my fingers and bring it in front of me just as a figure emerges from the closet.

“Rylie?” I croak in surprise, almost dropping my wand in shock. But Rylie grins horribly and suddenly I know exactly what is going on.

“No,” I rasp fearfully, stumbling backwards away from my worst nightmare and falling to the floor. “No, no! _Riddikulus! Riddikulus!_ ”

Nothing happens. Nothing ever does.

The boggart advances on me, still wearing that horrible grin. Then the grin drops into a pain-filled accusing frown.

“How could you let this happen to us Cora?” Boggart Rylie cries.

“No. No I didn’t,” I sob, pressing my back against the bed frame in a pathetic attempt to get away.

“You let us _die_ , coward,” Rylie spits hatefully.

“No! I didn’t! _Riddikulus!_ ” I yell though now I’m sobbing because I know what I’ll see next.

 _Crack_. Rylie is suddenly on the floor, her eyes blank and staring with blood pooling beneath her skull. I scream. Long and loud. _Crack_. Rylie’s body has been replaced with Jon’s.

Suddenly the door bursts open and Fred storms in with his wand held aloft.

“What the hell?!” Fred exclaims as he sees Jon’s gruesome form on the floor. _Crack_. Seb is lying dead on the floor, limbs twisted at unnatural angles. _Crack_. Now it’s George. Blank eyes staring hauntingly at the ceiling. I scream again and cover my eyes with my fists. My boggart has changed. It has added a body to the list that haunts me.

“ _Riddikulus!_ ” Fred roars and I hear another _crack_ and loud slam as Fred locks the boggart back in the closet.

As soon as it’s gone Fred drops to the floor beside me and wraps me in his arms. I’m too busy bawling my eyes out and trying to keep from vomiting to protest so I just lay my head on his chest and cry. It’s the first time I’ve ever been able to just let go and cry on someone else.

“Shh. Shh. Cora it’s alright. It was just a boggart. Everyone’s alright,” Fred whispers his reassurances into my hair and rocks me sounding distraught himself. A warmth swells up from my belly and into my chest. It’s an odd feeling that I’ve never felt before. It makes me feel… Full and cared for I guess is the only way I can describe it.

Fred continues to just hold me and murmur comfortingly in my ear until my sobs finally stop and I’m just trying to get my breathing back under control. I make no move to leave his embrace even after I’m completely calm again. I like it. I feel at home here. I feel safe.

“Are you alright?” Fred eventually asks. I sit up and Fred drops his arms to his sides, allowing me to scrub the half dried tears from my face and nod yes.

“I’ve never been able to face my boggart,” I say hoarsely, offering a trembling, shame-filled smile. “I’m no Gryffindor.”

Fred frowns and reaches up to wipe a few tears I’ve missed off my chin.

“Well maybe you don’t need to be,” he says slowly. “You’ve got me now. I’ll be your Gryffindor just like you’re Sam’s Hufflepuff.”

Years later I’ll look back on this moment and realize that this is exactly when I fall in love with Fred Weasley. My chest turns warm and my eyes go damp again, but I push back at the emotions and shake my head.

“But then what good will I be to you?” I ask. He smiles at me and shakes his head as though he should have expected this response.

“Don’t you already have enough people to take care of?” he asks. “How about I’ll be your Gryffindor and you just be you.”

I can’t stop the self-conscious smile that blooms in response.

“Alright,” I agree quietly looking down at my lap. Fred lifts my chin with a single finger and smiles.

“Let’s go get some chocolate in you,” he says as he takes my hand and pulls me to my feet. “We’ll let George take care of the Boggart when he gets home.”

I nod distractedly as I walk with him down the hall. I can’t help but notice that he never lets go of my hand after helping me up.

**.**

**|13|~*~|13|**

**.**

“What are you doing up?”

I jump about a mile in the air at the unexpected words from behind me. I twist in my seat on the couch my heart racing and see Fred standing in the mouth of the hallway ruffling his hair sleepily as he yawns. I smile a bit and for some reason my heart rate doesn’t seem to slow. He looks good all rumpled and sleepy in his sleep pants and old faded Quidditch shirt.

“Couldn’t sleep,” I say and hold up my book. He frowns looking concerned.

“Nightmares?” he asks. I drop my eyes and shrug one shoulder.

“Nightmares imply actually having fallen asleep so no,” I tell him with a sad smile. He stares at me for a moment, his face unreadable. Then he holds up one finger and disappears back down the hall without another word. I stare after him for a second and then turn back to my book with a mental shrug.

Fred was close in his guess about nightmares. The truth is that the Boggart incident is still so fresh in my mind that I’m sure I’ll have nightmares as soon as I do fall asleep. And that room gives me the creeps now, even though Fred went back and got rid of the Boggart (despite his saying that he’d have George do it) hours ago. I’m not sure if I can go in there anymore without reliving the incident. I would have told the twins that earlier today while they were both falling all over each other trying to comfort me, but my pride just wouldn’t allow it. It’s already been injured enough.

A pile of blankets and pillows flops down beside me on the couch causing me to start again.

“You want a hot chocolate?” Fred calls over his shoulder as he walks into the kitchen.

“Umm, can I have tea instead?” I ask. The twins have been loading me up with chocolate of any form that they can get their hands on all day. Hot chocolate has by far been their favorite source. _You get the effects of chocolate with the warm soothing benefits of tea_ , they tell me. Quite frankly I’m pretty sick of hot chocolate.

“Coming right up,” Fred calls from the kitchen. Soon there are only the soft sounds of tea making floating from the open kitchen. I try to focus on my book again, but the thought that Fred will be back any minute distracts me. I give up and lay it open on the armrest pages down to mark my place. Then I lean back into the couch and close my eyes, focusing on the soothing sounds coming from the kitchen.

This time I hear Fred making his way back and I sit up, ready for him.

“Here you are,” Fred announces grandiosely as he hands me my mug, “One cup of tea for the lovely lady.”

“Thanks,” I mumble, embarrassed as I accept the mug and hold it between my hands. I hadn’t realized how cold my hands are until the tea is warming them. I blow a bit on it and then take a tentative sip. It’s actually really good.

“So what’s all this for?” I ask Fred while he settles himself on the opposite side of the bedding I’m gesturing to.

“Ah that is the question isn’t it,” Fred says and sets his own tea on the coffee table. “Well I figured that if you can’t sleep then I’ll just sit with you until you can. And you can’t sleep without pillows and blankets.”

“Oh,” I say, nonplussed by this thoughtful gesture. “You don’t have to. I mean, I was reading so I wasn’t lonely or anything…” I trail off at the look of consternation on Fred’s face.

“No one should be alone at night when they can’t sleep,” he admonishes me. “Book or no book. George will tell you the same thing.”

“Alright, alright,” I say, putting my free hand up in defeat. “You can stay then. Am I still allowed to read?” I ask gesturing to my book.

“Course you can,” Fred says, beaming now that he’s gotten his way. “Now up you get so we can get comfortable.”

“What’s wrong with this?” I ask gesturing to the pile of bedding separating the two of us while we sit on opposite ends of the couch. Fred just gives me a look and I sigh and get to my feet.

“That’s more like it,” Fred mutters and then begins adjusting pillows and laying out blankets. Soon he’s done and plops himself down in the corner that had previously been mine and stretches out his legs.

“Alright, your turn,” he says gesturing to the spot of couch between his legs. I feel my face heat up as I look between him and the place he expects me to sit.

“Er- really Fred you don’t have to-,”

“Cora, how am I supposed to be your Gryffindor for you if you send me off to bed while you stay up because you’re afraid of your nightmares?” Fred asks sounding genuinely wounded that I’m trying to reject his help. I set my tea on the table and purse my lips but make no comment as I gingerly seat myself between his legs. Fred sighs impatiently.

“Merlin Cora! I’m not trying to seduce you. You act like you’ve never just cuddled with a man before,” he moans. My face heats even more and I clear my throat, open my mouth and then shut it again.

“You really haven’t, have you?” Fred asks, befuddled. I shake my head and stay turned away so he won’t see how embarrassed I am. He sighs again only it seems more directed at himself than at me this time.

“Alright, let me help you,” he says, taking up that gentle tone that he used when comforting me after the boggart. He sits up and wraps his arms around me, pulling my back against his chest. Then he slowly reclines back until he’s in the same slouched position he was in before and I’m lying on my side on top of his upper torso with my head resting on his chest.

“There,” Fred says with quiet satisfaction. “Here’s your book,” he hands me my book, “I’m going to cover us both with this blanket,” he does, “And now for Godric’s sake Cora relax. If you can’t, I’m going to have to send myself back to my room because it will defeat the whole purpose of me being out here with you if you stay this tense.”

“Sorry,” I mumble against his shirt while hugging my book to my chest. I close my eyes and take a deep breath and force myself to relax all of my muscles. It takes a few minutes, but I get there.

“Much better,” Fred mumbles into my hair and wraps his arms around my middle in a hug.

I fight a blush as I crack open my book and find the page I’d left off on. Soon Fred is sound asleep and I’m more comfortable than I think I’ve ever been in my life. I smile to myself just listening to the sound of his heartbeat beneath my ear and his steady breath rippling my hair. His scent has surrounded me in a warm cocoon. I hate to admit it, even to myself, but Fred was right. This is way better than staying up and reading alone.

I’m not sure when it happens, but eventually I fall asleep too, with my head resting snugly on Fred’s chest and one hand loosely fisted in his t-shirt, book nowhere to be found. I sleep deeply and it’s the best sleep I’ve had since before the war.

**.**

**|13|~*~|13|**

**.**

“Aww well isn’t this adorable?”

I slowly wake to a deep cooing coming from somewhere above my head. I attempt to press my face further into my pillow in a vain effort to avoid waking just yet, but my pillow is strangely solid.

“I’m hurt though that I wasn’t informed of these developments. You know I wouldn’t really tell your parents, right Cora?”

The voice, George’s, continues on sounding amused rather than hurt like he claims, but in my sleep fogged mind I can’t for the life of me figure out what he’s on about. And I don’t really care right now anyway because I just so comfortable.

And then my pillow groans, a deep sound that I feel rumble against my cheek. My eyes snap open, but before I can react any further an arm snares me around my waist and then world turns until I find myself trapped between the back of the couch and Fred.

_What on Earth?_

As the pieces come back together and I remember what led to this situation George bursts into frenzied laughter, no doubt from the look on my face. I glare at what I can see of him standing in front of the couch over the top of Fred’s neck. Then I clear my throat awkwardly and tap Fred’s back as well as I can with my arm trapped down by his.

“Erm Fred?” I say hesitantly. He groans again and nuzzles his face down into my hair. I freeze and feel my face heat up spectacularly much to George’s continued amusement judging by his renewed laughter. I see Fred’s eyes flicker beneath his eyelids as he slowly comes to, no doubt due to his twin’s raucous enjoyment of my discomfort.

“Fred?” I say again, quieter than the last time because of my tight throat. He blinks his dark blue eyes open and closed and I’m close enough to his face to watch his pupils dilate as he tries to wake up and focus.

“Erm, do you mind-?” I don’t get to finish my sentence as he looks down at me snuggled down in his arms and pinned between his chest and the couch’s back and then jerks so badly in surprise that he falls backward to the floor. This unsurprisingly sets off George again to the point that he has to take a seat in the armchair to avoid the same fate as his twin.

Meanwhile Fred slowly gets to his feet, the back of his neck flushed a dull pink, and I sit up from the couch. We both turn and glare at George and I notice something in George’s hand.

“Is that-?” I ask.

“A camera!” Fred finishes.

We trade glances and then mutually run at George. George, even though he is still laughing, manages to evade us and runs straight out the door to the flat clutching the magical device to his chest like it’s his firstborn child and cackling like a mad man. Fred doesn’t hesitate to follow in hot pursuit, but I do. I look down at my pajama clad self and feel the tangle of hair on my head and decide that Fred can handle this himself.

Instead I creep into the hated yellow room and grab everything I think I’ll need for the day before running back out of it, never once looking in the direction of the closet. Once I’m free I let out a deep breath that I think I’ve been holding and shut myself in the loo.

A short time later I emerge feeling refreshed and less embarrassed than I was earlier. I toss my worn clothing from the night before into the yellow room as I pass and most of it lands on the bed. It makes no difference to me. _I’m_ not going to go in there to pick up what didn’t make it.

I follow clattering noises into the kitchen and find Fred standing before the stove wearing clean clothes, but looking agitated.

“Morning,” I greet him when he doesn’t seem to notice my entrance. He glances up at me and nods before turning back to the yellowish mass before him in a frying pan.

“Morning,” he says distractedly while fumbling with a spatula.

“What are you doing?” I ask curiously. He sighs heavily.

“I’m _trying_ to make breakfast, but it’s not going well. George is usually the one who’s in charge of breakfast, but he’s vanished off the map,” he says with a slight trace of bitterness that, if I know the twins at all, is exaggerated.

“Are those supposed to be eggs?” I ask, trying to ignore the ever growing burning smell hanging in the air. Fred turns to give me a look over his shoulder before sighing again and turning off the stove with a tap of his wand.

“Yes,” he grumbles and grabs the pan and dumps the lumpy mass into the trash. I stifle a chuckle that I feel would not be appreciated at the moment.

“Would you like some help?” I offer, trying valiantly to keep my amusement out of my voice. He turns to me with what can only be described as a pout on his face. My resolve cracks and a smile breaks free.

“ _I_ am supposed to be making breakfast for _you_ seeing as _you’re_ the guest,” he says. I roll my eyes.

“Well it was a nice thought, but if you want something edible for breakfast maybe you should just set aside your manly pride for the time being and let me cook,” I suggest with a grin. He scowls at me, but doesn’t argue, belly winning over pride I’m sure. I hold in a snicker.

“So I take it George got away with the evidence?” I ask casually while opening the fridge and scanning it for options.

“Yes,” Fred grouses.

“Hmm,” I hum with my lips pressed together. “Well he has to come home sometime.”

Fred makes a noise of assent. I gather ingredients for Seb’s pancake recipe and grab the carton of the remaining eggs and set to work. Fred leans casually against the counter and watches me work in silence.

“So if George is in charge of breakfast, what meal do you make?” I ask curiously. The dynamics of the twins fascinates me now that I’m letting myself think about it.

“Dinner usually,” he says while watching me measure the flour. “I can never get up early enough to make breakfast so George does that. Then we’re both on our own for lunch and sometimes George will take care of dinner, but usually it’s me.” I nod wordlessly and continue to mix the batter. Soon Fred excuses himself to go wash up and I take the time alone to evaluate the changes in our relationship.

It’s hard to believe how far we’ve come in such a short amount of time. Was it really just two days ago that I was plotting his murder? Now we’re holding civil conversations and teaming up together against George and falling asleep together on the couch and making each other meals.

I shake the thoughts from my head. It’s just too confusing to focus on for long, and besides, I like where we’re at now. It’s… nice. Yeah. It’s nice.

The rest of the day after breakfast I spend completely alone. And it’s wonderful. The twins spend the day in their lab working on their potions stock. I have no other responsibilities and I’m awful at potions so I stay holed up in the flat and listen to music and read and eat chocolate and basically just do whatever I want. It’s just what I’ve been needing. I haven’t been me lately and that’s more upsetting to me than this whole marriage law thing. Other people letting me down isn’t anything new, but I should never let myself down.

This day off has given me a chance to get my perspective back and screw my head back on straight. I realized that I’ve been focusing so much on what has been taken away from me that I’ve been completely blind to what I’ve gained. I’ve gotten a wicked awesome friend in George. Rylie and Jon are both completely happy and falling in love with their matches. Sam finally got the courage to tell me that she’s a lesbian and now she can finally just be happy and not worry about what I’ll think. Not to mention that her and Ava are half in love already.

The war is over. There’s no downside there. My family is all alive and living peaceful, unthreatened lives. I’ve got some fabulous in-laws who have all accepted me and made me feel welcome in their family. Actually now that I’m thinking about it, they’ve been more welcoming to me than I’ve been to them. I’ll need to make it up to them somehow…

And Fred’s not so bad. I mean I think I can be happy with him. I mean…. Yeah. Things aren’t looking as bad as I’d thought. Actually everyone seems to be taken care of. Everyone except me. Maybe it’s time to look into that new job.

I look up at the clock over the fireplace from my upside down position half out of the armchair.

Four ‘o’ clock. That’s not too late to pop in at the Ministry and file a job application right? Not if I hurry.

I do a backwards somersault to dismount the chair and scramble up off the floor to jog down the hallway and grab some dress robes from the yellow room and wash up in the bathroom. Once I figure I’m presentable I floo to the Ministry confident for the first time that I can get that job.

 


	14. Turning Points

“You’ve been jittery today,” George comments idly while chewing on the end of one of the ballpoint pens that I bought for him and Fred today while I was out. He’s frowning over a notebook (also purchased by yours truly) that he’s been scribbling in for the past half hour from the armchair in the sitting room. I’m assuming that he’s working on something for the shop and haven’t asked him about it.

George’s comment gets Fred’s attention, who has been on the opposite end of the couch from me doodling with his new pen and notebook while I try to focus on my book with no success. He looks up at me and frowns.

“I applied today,” I tell them nervously, setting aside my book and my pretenses of reading it. George’s face immediately lights up and he unceremoniously throws his things onto the floor as he jumps to his feet.

“You did!? Why didn’t you say anything?” he exclaims.

“Applied for what?” Fred asks, brow furrowed as he looks between George and I.

“Experimental Charms,” we respond in harmony. Only George says it like a five year old announces that he can hear the ice cream truck coming while I say it like it’s a looming death sentence.

“Oh,” Fred says.

“Why didn’t you say something sooner?” George demands. I shrug.

“I didn’t want to make a big fuss of it I guess.” This is the truth. I felt really confident when I made the snap decision to go apply, but since I’ve gotten back from the Ministry the nerves have just gotten stronger the more I’ve thought about it. So I’ve tried not to think about it without any luck.

“It _is_ a big deal though! It _deserves_ to be made a big fuss over,” George complains. I shake my head and smile a bit.

“You talk like I’ve already got the job. All I did was apply,” I remind him. George scoffs and waves off my point.

“They won’t turn you down. You’re too good,” he says easily.

“You don’t know that,” I argue. “Maybe they don’t have any positions open. Maybe I’m not what they’re looking for. Maybe I’m _not_ good enough. Maybe-,”

“You’ve been overthinking things,” Fred interrupts suddenly. I realize that I’ve been wringing my hands and immediately stop and tuck them under my legs. I stare at him for a moment while worrying my lip as I decide how to respond. With the truth? Or to deflect the observation?

“It’s possible that I’m terrified of rejection.” I opt for honesty. Fred and even George looks a teeny bit surprised.

“You think you’ll be rejected?” George asks. I half shrug and avoid their eyes. It’s not that I think I’ll be rejected, it’s just that there’s the chance that I might be. That I won’t be good enough.

“Do you think I’ll get the job?” I ask Fred quietly. I nibble my bottom lip some more as he studies me quietly. I hope that he can’t read on my face just how anxious I am about his answer. I don’t know when his opinion about me started carrying so much weight, but somehow it’s come to the point that his opinion will tip the scales.

“Of course you will,” he finally answers, “You’re brilliant.”

A smile blossoms to life on my face and my shoulders sag in relief. He thinks I’m brilliant.

“You really think so?” I ask before I can stop myself. His eyebrows jump up and he smiles.

“Course,” he says.

“See?” George says, smirking in victory. “Told you so.  Now quit stressing over it. What happens will happen and when it does Fred and I will be ready to throw you a party.”

I can’t help but laugh at his confidence.

“Oh alright. You win this time,” I tease as I pick up my book, determined to actually read some of it tonight.

“What are you reading?” Fred asks as George goes back to his work. I assess him over the top of the book for a moment before allowing it to shut again in my lap.

“You’re going to think it’s weird,” I warn him. His eyebrows lift and across the room George jerks his head up to stare at me as well.

“Is it one of those naughty romance novels?” George asks, eyeing my book curiously.

“No!” I exclaim defensively, hugging the book to my chest. “Is that all boys can think about? Jeez.”

“Sorry, sorry,” George says, holding up his hands, but smiling. “But it’s nothing to be ashamed of you know. I happen to know that Ginny has a stash in her room somewhere.”

I roll my eyes.

“Well it’s not,” I insist.

“So what is it?” Fred asks.

“Well…” I hesitate. “It’s called _Body Bags_.”

The twins react in much the same way as before.

“Body Bags?” they chorus.

“Yeah it’s a muggle book and it’s the first in the series about this girl named Jenna and it’s her first year in muggle college and she gets a job working in a morgue and all sorts of weird stuff happens that she gets caught up in and has to solve puzzles and mysteries,” I explain enthusiastically. It really is a good book.

“Wait, wait,” Fred stops me.

“Morgue?”

“College?” the twins question.

“Oh right. College is like getting a specialized education after your required schooling and a morgue is where muggles, er, take deceased people and perform autopsies, er- I mean they cut dead people open and examine their bodies to find out how they died- Okay stop looking at me like that!” I yell at them. They’re looking horrified like they suddenly don’t know who I am anymore.

“I told you it was going to sound weird,” I huff. “You insisted.”

“Muggles are mad!” George exclaims.

“No they aren’t!” I defend. “That’s the only way they can solve murders and make sure people died by natural causes. That’s how they make sure that if some murderer needs to be brought to justice they will be. It’s not like they do it for some sick sort of pleasure.”

“Alright, we believe you! Just calm down.” George says. There’s an awkward silence for a minute until Fred clears his throat.

“So… You like reading about… that?” he asks conversationally. I sigh.

“I like mysteries and puzzles and these books have a good deal of both, so yes,” I answer monotonously. He nods and looks pensive for a moment.

“Alright,” he says. “That’s… cool.” I beam at him and stick my tongue out at George and then snuggle into the couch to continue reading. In the book they’ve just discovered that there was some kind of bug inside this guy’s head that mutilated his brain and caused him to go into a mad killing spree before dropping dead himself.

I’m drawn out of my book a short time later by Fred chuckling to himself. I lower my book and lift an inquisitive eyebrow over the top. George looks just as curious as I do.

“You thought she was reading a romance novel,” he snickers. George catches my eye and begins chuckling as well.

“You certainly know how to pick ‘em Freddie,” he teases. Fred grins back and doesn’t correct him about who exactly did the picking. I turn back to my book with a light heart and a smile.

**.**

**|14|~*~|14|**

**.**

“Cora, can I talk to you?” Fred asks me. George has since gone off to bed and I’ve been hoping that Fred would be following shortly so that I can continue sleeping on the couch, like I have been the last couple nights, without either of them knowing. I look up at Fred and frown. He’s standing in front of me and rubbing the back of his neck looking entirely uncomfortable.

“Sure,” I say and pull my legs up so that he has a place to sit.

“Thanks,” he mumbles as he takes the offered seat. He doesn’t say anything or look at me for a minute and instead picks at a thread in the blank covering my feet.

“What’s wrong?” I ask after it becomes clear that he may need some prompting. He glances up at me before sighing and leaning back into the couch to frown at the opposite wall.

“I just… I have a question, but I don’t want to make you mad,” he says, glancing sideways at me from the corner of his eye.

“Alright. Shoot,” I tell him easily. Fred expels a lungful of air and then turns to look me straight in the face.

“Are you in love with George?” he asks. I feel the surprise spread in a shockwave across my face.

“No,” I tell him quickly. Fred continues to study me.

“Are you sure?” he asks quietly. “Cuz I mean if you do,” he goes back to picking at the blanket, “It’s alright. I mean we can…”

I gently stop his hand and thread my fingers between his. He looks up at me in surprise.

“I’m sure,” I tell him, looking him straight in the eyes. “If I do love George it’s only in the way that a sister loves her brother. Nothing more. And he’ll tell you the same thing about me.”

“He already did,” Fred murmurs, looking down to our entwined hands like they’re a puzzle he’s trying to solve. I tilt my head and purse my lips as I study him.

“Why?” I ask curiously. “You’ve heard us say the same thing several times. Why hasn’t that convinced you?”

Fred looks back up to my face while he answers.

“Your boggart,” he says simply. I flinch as George’s dead body flashes against the inside of my eyelids.

“Oh,” I mumble, me now being the one to avoid eye contact.

“Sorry,” Fred says earnestly. “I didn’t want to bring it up again.”

“It’s alright,” I tell him softly.

“George said that it just means that you’ve added him to your list of siblings to protect,” Fred continues hesitantly. I shrug.

“I guess that makes sense,” I tell him dully. “I haven’t really thought about it.”

Fred squeezes my hand, drawing me from my memories.

“I’m sorry I brought it up,” he says once I’m once again looking into his eyes. “I really am.” And for once he looks completely serious and sincere. Not a joking smile in sight. I smile a little to let him know that I’m alright.

“It’s okay,” I tell him and squeeze his hand back. He smiles a little. I bite my lip as an idea comes into my head. It’s a risk, but it’s a way to show Fred that he’s different from George. At least in my eyes.

“Do you want to go somewhere?” I ask quickly before I can chicken out. Fred’s eyes widen.

“What? Now?” he asks. I grin, settling into my idea.

“Yes now,” I say teasingly, easily falling back onto familiar ground. I get to my feet and pull him up with me. “C’mon, get your shoes on. Oh and you might want a jumper. It might be a bit nippy out.”

Fred stares at me like I’ve gone off the deep end and then shakes his head with a slight grin and starts off to his room to grab his things.

“You’re nutters,” he says when he gets back, pulling a forest green jumper over his head. I grin as I catch sight of the large golden “G” emblazoned on the chest.

“That’s what they tell me,” I say chipperly as I pull on my own purple jumper and stuff my feet into my trainers. “Ready?”

Fred nods. “Although you still haven’t told me where we’re going at this time of night,” he adds. I smile sadly.

“A place I haven’t taken anyone else,” I answer evasively. “You’ll see.” Fred raises his eyebrows and doesn’t say anything else on the subject.

I lead him out the front door of the flat, down the stairs, through the shop, and out the front doors to the middle of Diagon Alley. Then I grab his hand and we disapparate.

When we reappear it’s pitch black out and the wind is gusting. I’m glad I suggested the jumpers. Fred stays silent as we weave through the tombstones hand in hand. It’s an eerie night to be in a graveyard, but at least I’m not alone for once. I come here more often than I like to admit. Finally we reach a plain gray stone that’s slightly smaller than the rest.

_Sally-Anne Marie Perks_

_1980-1998_

_"They can no longer die; for they are like the angels." - Luke 20:36_

We stand hand in hand before the stone marker for a minute. Then I sink down to sit cross-legged before her and Fred follows, my hand still clutching his. I take my free hand and idly trace the 'S' of Sally.

“Do you come here a lot?” Fred finally asks in a hushed tone after several minutes of silence. I shrug and then nod.

“More than I probably should,” I say just barely loud enough to be heard over the howling wind and creaking of the old trees that speckle the cemetery.

“Why?” Fred asks and I know that he’s not judging me. He’s just genuinely wondering. I’m mute for a few minutes while I think about it. Why do I keep coming back here? It’s not like I enjoy it. And the nightmares I get every time aren’t exactly what I keep looking for.

“As a reminder I guess,” I answer slowly. “A reminder of what happens if I fail.”

“What do you mean?” Fred probes.

“Sally was a year above Seb and a year behind Rylie, did you know that?” I ask instead. I feel Fred shake his head rather than see it.

“Her death is my reminder of what could happen if I fail them or Jon and I guess George now too. This is the worst case scenario, like you already saw with my Boggart,” I explain grimly, tracing the 'A' of angel.

“Cora…” Fred starts cautiously.

“What would you do if something happened to George?” I ask him before he can continue, turning away from Sally’s tombstone to look him in the face. I know my eyes are flat and serious. He jerks like just thinking about it causes a physical pain through his chest.

“I don’t know,” he says quietly, glancing away so that his eyes come to rest on Sally’s tombstone. “I don’t think I’d handle it as well as he did.”

I nod even though he can’t see it.

“I don’t know what I would do either if something happened to Jon or Rylie or Seb or even George. I’d be a mess. I would blame myself, that’s for sure. I would always be asking myself what I could have done… If I could have saved them somehow. It’s terrifying to me that I can’t be in control and that I can’t keep them safe from everything in life. So I do what I can. I protect them from what is in my control and just hope that it’s enough.”

Silence descends upon us as I run out of words, but it’s not uncomfortable. We simply sit and let my words sink in around us as we observe the cut stone before us without truly seeing it.

“So that’s why you panicked when you found out that they’d gone to the final battle behind your back,” Fred says after several minutes. I nod, my mouth twisted in a grimace. The feeling of betrayal is still fresh even though I’ve tried to move on.

“They could have all died and I would have had no idea until it was too late,” I say in a tight whisper. I swallow thickly to try and ease the discomfort. Fred nods.

“And you would have blamed yourself,” he continues. I scoff.

“It would have been all my fault. If I hadn’t been so stubborn they would have just told me they were going no matter what and we all could have gone together and I could have looked out for them.” I can feel my voice rising hysterically so I stop and shut my eyes and take a deep breath to calm myself.

“They all made it out alright,” Fred reminds me. I make a strangled sound in my throat.

“Thanks to you it sounds like,” I say, my voice cracking from how tight my throat is. “You said Death Eaters had Jon pinned.” Fred says nothing for several long moments and then he gently moves his hand out of mine and slips his arm around my shoulders so that now I rest against his side. It’s only now that I realize that I’m shaking. I close my eyes and focus on my breathing.

“Everything worked out exactly how it was supposed to,” he says eventually. I nod against the wiry yarn of his jumper.

“Thank you,” I croak after a minute. Thank you for saving Jon. Thank you for being here now and listening. Thank you for reassuring me. I’m not sure what exactly I’m thanking him for. All of it probably.

He squeezes me against him in reply and drops a kiss to the top of my head. I feel my cheeks heat at the unexpected gesture and my stomach flops, but I make no move to put space between us. We sit for a long time. Neither of us suggest leaving until my backside is numb with cold and my hair is a tangled heap upon my head from the wind.

We apparate outside the shop and walk back inside hand in hand. I don’t know what to make of this. When we are back inside the flat we stand uncertainly for a moment before we drop each other’s hands and I retreat back to the couch and my book.

“Well I’m off to bed then,” Fred says, halfway between the hallway and me.

“Okay,” I reply quietly.

“Are you going to bed soon?” he asks when I don’t get up also.

“Yeah, I’m just going to finish another chapter,” I say holding up my book. Fred just stares intently at me for a minute and just when I’m thinking that he’s caught me in my lie he nods.

“Alright. Make sure you get some sleep though. You sure that book won’t give you nightmares?” he adds with a grin, bringing back the teasing, light atmosphere that we’ve grown accustomed to. I grin.

“I’m sure. G’night Fred.”

“Night Cora.”

I wait until he shuts his bedroom door behind him before lying back down with a relieved sigh. That was close. I pull off my jumper and kick off my shoes. Then I flick my wand to turn out the lights and place my wand and book on the coffee table and snuggle down under my blanket. I can hear Fred shuffling around in his room, but he should stay in there for the night. And if one of the twins catches me out here in the morning I’ll just say that I fell asleep reading. With that plan in place I allow myself to drift off to sleep.

The next morning I wake up disoriented and confused. The first thing I notice is a familiar and soothing scent filling my nostrils. Second is how warm and comfortable I am. The third is that this is not where I fell asleep. I bolt upright so fast that black spots blur my vision. I blink them away. Once I can see again I take in my surroundings.

It’s a familiar room, but I can’t immediately place it. My instincts say I’m perfectly safe, but something is off. It looks like a lot of stuff was moved out of the room recently and I can see that my stuff has been moved in. That’s perplexing. It’s not the yellow room and it’ not my room back at my parent’s house.

Suddenly Fred’s voice drifts faintly through the door as he yells something to George. Immediately my tense muscles relax. If he and George are here then nothing will hurt me. But where am-

Finally it hits me. I’m in _Fred’s_ room. He’s obviously moved his things out and my things in. So that must mean that he’s taken over the yellow room. I guess I wasn’t as good at hiding my dislike for the room as I’d thought.

I know my cheeks must be glowing a bright red as I think about how thoughtful it was of him. _George_ didn’t switch rooms with me. As far as I know George didn’t even noticed that I wasn’t staying in that room. _Fred_ did. It’s amazing how different I feel about Fred doing something like this for me than if it were George.

Then my mind wanders to how he must have moved me from the couch to here. My cheeks heat further when I imagine him carrying me down the hallway against his chest. I shake my head to dislodge the thoughts. I sink back down into the bed while I mentally chide myself.

_Seriously Cora. Get a grip. You’re acting like a swooning teenager. You don’t even like him that way. Do you?_

It’s sad that I have to lay here and think about it isn’t it? Last night certainly changed things. I did something I’ve never done before. I dropped my walls and let someone in. That means something right? Then there’s all of the hand holding and my newly discovered blushing and the way I reacted when he kissed the top of my head and-

…Holy Helga. I fancy Fred Weasley.

 

 


	15. Unexpected Side Effects

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A panic attack is described in this chapter so if that is a trigger for you please read with caution or not at all.

I know what you’re thinking. Really it’s a good thing that I fancy Fred since, you know, we’ll be getting married in a few weeks and all. That doesn’t make this any easier though. Remember, I haven’t dated anyone since I was _fifteen_. That was going on seven years ago! I don’t know what I’m supposed to do or how I’m supposed to act. All of my examples have been fleeting teenage things that meant next to nothing.

To say I’m in over my head would be an understatement.

“Cora?” There’s a knock on the door and Fred’s voice carries through the wooden barrier.

The first thing I do is panic.

 _Oh my God_. I just realized I fancy the guy and here he is knocking on the door. I can’t face him yet! I need a plan of action! I need to figure out what I’m supposed to _do_. I can’t just-!

The second thing I do is force myself to calm down.

_Okay Cora. You’re fine. You’re great. Just treat him how you always do. Treat him like George and you’ll be fine! It’s all going to be fine. Just act natural._

I sit up in the bed and straighten my clothes that I slept in.

“Come in,” I call out. I wince when my voice sounds airier than usual. The door pops open and Fred walks in looking concerned.

“Did you have a nightmare?” he asks. I blink in surprise. I didn’t actually. Usually I have nightmares for a week after visiting the cemetery.

“No,” I say simply. He smiles.

“Good,” he says. An awkward silence descends upon us as I can’t for the life of me think of what to say next.

“Erm. Did you carry me in here?” As soon as the words are out of my mouth my eyes widen in horror. _Oh my God._ I can’t believe I just asked that. Oh my God. He’s going to think I’m-

Actually I don’t know what he’s going to think. But it’s not going to reflect well on me, of that I am sure.

“Umm well yeah I did,” Fred says uncomfortably, rubbing the back of his neck and staring up at the wall over my head. “Sorry if that bothers-,”

“No no no!” I interrupt quickly. “It doesn’t bother me. It’s fine with me if you want to. I mean…”

 _SHUT UP CORA! STOP BEING SO FREAKING AWKWARD!_ I yell internally.

“Oh. Well… Okay then,” Fred says when I stop abruptly. “Erm George is making breakfast so uh whenever you’re ready to eat…” He gestures towards the kitchen and I nod rapidly.

“Sure of course!” I agree eagerly with a big smile. Fred gives me an odd look and then leaves the room, closing the door behind him. As soon as the door clicks shut in its frame I throw myself face down onto the bed and groan into the pillow. I lay there and wallow for a moment before I roll onto my back and press the heels of my hands into my eyes.

“Way to act natural, Rivers,” I berate myself quietly. “Now he thinks you’ve done a nut.”

This calls for desperate measures. I call Sam. It takes her a minute to pick up her mirror and when she does she looks rumpled and sleepy-eyed.

“What?” she barks her voice still raspy from just waking up.

“I fancy Fred,” I spit out frantically. She glares at me.

“Well it’s about time,” she grouses. “Did you really wake me up just to tell me this?”

“No!” I exclaim. “I need help. Advice. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do. And don’t you dare say to just act natural because I just tried that I and ended up looking like a brainless twit.”

Sam just stares at me for a minute and then bursts out laughing.

“Wow. You really do fancy him. I haven’t seen you like this since… Well, ever,” she says still chuckling to herself. I roll my eyes.

“Yes, yes. Can we laugh at me later? I’m floundering here!” I complain. She rolls her eyes.

“Alright just calm down. I don’t really know what else to tell you,” she says with a shrug. “Just be yourself. We already know that he likes you so just be how you’ve always been.”

“We do? He does?” I ask wide eyed. Sam sighs in heartfelt exasperation.

“Yes. Everyone could see it,” she tells me.

“They could?” I repeat.

“It’s true.” Suddenly Ava’s head pops in beside Sam’s, looking just as sleep tousled. My jaw drops. “We could all see it that night during the movie when you fell asleep on him. He was smitten.”

I completely miss everything she says as my brain goes down a completely different road.

“Have you guys been sleeping together?” I blurt. “No! Nevermind. I don’t want to know.”

Sam grins wickedly while Ava blushes and ducks her head out of range of the mirror.

“Shut up Sam!” I yell, dropping the mirror in favor of placing my hands over my ears and squeezing my eyes shut. She hasn’t verbally said anything, but it’s like she’s telepathically telling me things that she shouldn’t.

“I don’t need these images!”

Sam just cackles, loving my discomfort. I drop my hands from my ears and bring the mirror back in front of my face so she can see my glare.

“Oh you’re just so innocent Cora,” Sam teases. I continue to glare.

“Yes and I’d like to keep it that way if you don’t mind,” I snip. Sam smirks.

“You say that now, but with you living with Fred and the two of you fancying each other… Well you might just have a change of heart soon,” she taunts, grinning widely. I glare some more.

“Okay. I’m done with this conversation,” I tell her. “Thanks for the shoddy advice. I guess I’ll figure it out on my own.”

“You do that,” she says. “Meanwhile I’m going to go back to my wonderful fiancé to enjoy her lovely-,”

“LALALALALA! I don’t need to hear this! Goodbye!” I shout over her and then end the connection, cutting out her laugher. I toss the mirror onto the nightstand. Terrible best friend. I mean _really_. How did I ever get landed with her?

I quickly get changed and head out to the kitchen, my mind still occupied. I drop onto a stool in front of the counter.

“Morning Cora,” George sing-songs as he slides a plate in front of me. I grunt a bit in response and begin wolfing down my eggs and sausage. It’s surprisingly really good.

“Well you’re in an awfully cheerful mood,” George comments idly with his hip propped against the opposite side of the counter that I’m eating on. I shrug and stab my eggs until they bleed yolk.

“My best friend kinda sucks,” I reply while concentrating on wiping up the spilled yolk with a sausage link.

“Oh, what’d she do this time?” George asks with a grin.

“I don’t want to _think_ about it, let alone talk about it,” I complain through a large mouthful.

“That bad, huh?” Fred suddenly asks from where he’s appeared on my left. My eyes dart to his face and then back down to my plate as I shrug. I feel my face heating inexplicably and silently curse the sudden appearance of this buried blushing gene.

“Do we need to teach her a lesson?” George asks looking gleefully mischievous.

“We do need a tester for the Runny Rapids,” Fred adds. The twins exchange evil grins. I raise my eyebrows.

“Runny Rapids,” I echo slowly. “What does that do? Give you a super runny nose all day?”

Fred and George both laugh.

“What do you take us for? Amateurs?” George asks, pretending to look offended.

“Let’s just say it won’t be her nose that’s running all day and that the day will be spent on the toilet,” Fred explains with a smirk.

“Oh. Ew! Gross! No I do not need you to teach her a lesson! Besides she didn’t even really do anything wrong, she just… Ugh. Nevermind,” I groan. If I tell them, I’m sure that their reaction will be more or less the same as Sam’s.

“Aww, c’mon Cora,” Fred coaxes, nudging my shoulder with his elbow and causing my face to flare red all over again.

“You know you can tell us _anything_ ,” George continues with a grin that is not trustworthy in the least as he looks from me to Fred and back again. I glare at him.

“It’s just that I found out some information that I feel I am better off without knowing,” I tell them with a huffy sniff.

“Oooh reeeaaally?” George says slowly, glancing significantly between me and Fred again.

“No!” I yell defensively while my face does an impression of a quaffle. George smirks. This won’t be good.

“Oh so you didn’t just find out that you fanc-,”

Before he can finish his sentence I launch myself over the counter and clamp my hands over his mouth. Unfortunately I overestimate the amount of momentum necessary and we both topple to the floor. Luckily George’s body cushions my fall.

“CORA FANC-,” George bellows, but I slap my hands over his mouth again. This leads to quite the struggle between the pair of us. We wrestle on the floor for a minute until somehow I end up latched onto him piggyback style with my hands clutching his mouth and my legs wrapped around his middle and holding on for dear life while he smashes my back into the wall. This is how Angelina finds us. The look on her face as she steps out of the fireplace would be pure comedy if I wasn’t in my current situation.

“What in the name of Quidditch-?” she exclaims and turns to Fred for an explanation. It’s only now that I realize Fred has perched himself on my vacated barstool and conjured a chalkboard that he’s been keeping score on. I don’t know how you earn points, but I’m winning.

“Control him!” I shout at Angie as George slams my back into the wall again. I don’t know what I’m hoping for though. Not even Mrs. Weasley can control the twins, much less Angie.

“George Weasley! Stop that!” Angie commands. George stops smashing me into the wall and says something, but the words are garbled through my hands.

“Oops. Sorry,” I say and release his mouth.

“CORA FANCIE-,”

“DAMN YOU GEORGE!” I holler as I lock my hands over his mouth again. I feel his belly rumble in a laugh so I dig my heel into his ribs in retaliation. He winces and I see Fred mark another talley under my name.

“Oh is that what this is all about.” Angie says, smiling now and looking amused. “Well it’s about time Cora.”

I glare at her and feel my face flush again as my eyes betray me and flick towards Fred who looks as clueless as ever. Thank goodness.

“Well I’m glad someone knows what these two are on about,” Fred comments while watching George try to tickle the bottoms of my feet to get me to let go. “I was beginning to think they’d both gone barmy.” Angie rolls her eyes and I slam my heel into George’s gut after a particularly successful tickle.

“You’re so dense Fred,” she tells him.

It takes some time, but eventually Angelina convinces George to keep his yap shut and leave with her to go do whatever it is they said they were doing. Some wedding mumbo jumbo I think. That would make sense since their wedding is in like four days. Fred leaves shortly after them to go work on product production in the lab and once again I am alone. And _boooorrrrrreeeeddd_. Really, one day of doing nothing is all I can take at a time.

I try to read for awhile, but I just don’t have the concentration. It’s just one of those days where nothing can hold my attention for long. I’d love to go downstairs and see what Fred’s doing and see if I can help. If it was George I would have followed him at the get go. But it’s Fred. And for some reason I act like prat around him.

I last about an hour through the absolute and utterly mind boggling boredom before I decide that humiliation would be more bearable. I trek down the stairs to the shop like I’m walking to my own demise. When I get to the bottom stair I almost change my mind and start to turn around to go back upstairs when I hear a sound. Like a whimper. That’s odd.

I turn back around and hear it again, just slightly louder this time. It’s coming from the lab. My mind flashes through things it could possibly be (oh you know, the usual: evil spirits, murderers, rapists, the big bad wolf, Death Eaters, etc. Yeah I read too many books).

Then another thought pops into my head and I see red. If the twins are testing their products on animals I will skin them alive and force feed their epidermal layer to them. (Maybe that was a tad graphic.) With this thought firmly in place I storm over to the slightly ajar door and swing it fully open. There are bookshelves and storage shelves lining every wall and two long tables covered in scorch marks facing each other in the center of the room with several cauldrons stacked in between them.

For a second I think the room is empty, but then I hear the whimper again and can now tell that it’s definitely human and definitely coming from within this room. I withdraw my wand from my pocket and slowly move counterclockwise around the room. As soon as I clear the end of the nearest table I can see someone, George, huddled on floor in front of the shelves at the far end of the room.

I’m in shock for a moment and then I lower my wand arm and run to him dropping to my knees as soon as I’m at his side. It’s definitely George. I don’t understand why he’s here or where Fred is, but I know for certain this is George. But something is unquestionably wrong. He’s hunched over his knees and shaking and his breathing is all weird and he doesn’t seem to notice that I’m here.

“George,” I say in a loud, firm voice that I don’t feel.

My insides are trembling in terror. I grab his bicep and shake him when he doesn’t respond. His arm just flops around and he keeps his head on his knees. Internally I’m screaming at myself to do something, but I don’t know what. I don’t know what’s happening to him. I don’t know what’s going on. Now I can hear his breath coming out in heavy wheezes, like his airways are closing up.

I grab his face between my hands and lift it so he’s looking at me. His eyes are dilated and unfocused, like he has no idea that I’m even here and he looks absolutely petrified. _I need to snap him out of this!_

“George!” I yell and pat his cheek. “George, it’s Cora!”

It seems to take all of his willpower and an enormous ton of effort, but George manages to focus on my face although his breathing is still ragged and strained and he still looks scared shitless.

“F-F-Fr-Fr,” he half-whispers, half-stutters.

“Fred?” I ask borderline hysterically. George jerks in a way that I somehow just know is a yes. Suddenly he clutches his chest over his heart and leans back against the shelves with his eyes closed in pain. _Oh God is he having a heart attack? Oh God. Oh God. Oh God._

“ _Expect-_ ,” I stop myself and take a deep breath willing my hands to stop shaking. I _need_ this to work. An image of the twins and I rough housing from a few days ago pops into my head and somehow I just know that it’ll work.

“ _Expecto Patronum!_ ” I shout. My German Shepherd bursts from my wand so forcefully that I’m knocked onto my backside. I catch the briefest glimpse of it running like hell before it disappears soundlessly through the brick wall. I grasp George’s hand in mine and as I prepare to wait I do something that I haven’t done for three months, and before then, years. I pray.

Less than a minute goes by before I hear the doors to the shop slam open.

“FRED IN HERE!” I bellow. Fred bursts into the room, his hair and clothes windswept and his eyes wild and scared in his pale face. He doesn’t slow down before racing right to me and George and collapsing to his knees in front of his twin.

“Georgie I’m here,” he says frantically, grabbing George’s face much the same way I had, fingers fumbling, and lifting it until George’s eyes lock onto his. George’s eyes immediately start watering, but there’s relief there instead of the blind terror.

“F-Fred,” he wheezes, his breathing still ragged and difficult. “Y-You weren’t here... I-I thought…”

“Shh. Shh,” Fred shushes his twin as he pulls him to his chest. George leans into him like a child to his mother as sobs shake his shoulders. “I know. It’s okay. It’s okay,” Fred reassures him, his voice shaking.

“I-I-I th-though you w-were-,” George stammers, sobs and gasps for air breaking up his words.

“I know. I’m okay. I’m fine, but you gotta stop crying Georgie. I need you to breathe,” Fred tells George, his voice cracking.

“I h-h-hate th-this,” George says vehemently.

“I know, Forge. Me too,” Fred agrees in a pained whisper.

George nods slightly and goes quiet, although he’s still shaking uncontrollably and crying. After a few minutes he seems to be getting better so I quietly slip out of the shop and out into the alley.

I lean my back against the hot brick of the building and slide down until I’m sitting in the dirt and dust at the side of the road. I ignore the curious looks from the passers by and wrap my arms around my middle and drop my forehead down so it’s resting on the kneecaps of my drawn up knees.

It takes me a few minutes to realize that I’m shaking. I don’t bother trying to stop. I don’t know what happened to George in there, but I’ll tell you what I do know. It scared the shit out of me. I never want to see either of the twins like that again. And it’s happened before. The way they were talking proves it. The way Fred knew what George needed to hear proves it.

I sit out in the August heat for over an hour, just waiting. I don’t know what I’m waiting for until he comes. The door to the shop opens and Fred sticks his head out. He looks left and right down the alley and frowns.

“Down here,” I say with a slight sniff as I straighten my back and prop my elbows up on my knees. Fred looks down and relief floods his too pale, too serious face when he sees me.

“Are you okay?” he asks, stepping out of the shop and allowing the door to slip closed behind him. I nod and scrub the heels of my hands wearily over my cheeks before hauling myself to my feet.

“I’m… I’m fine,” I tell him. “George… Is he okay?” I ask, my voice cracking.

“Yeah,” Fred answers, putting his hands in his pockets and looking out over the various patrons of the alley scurrying about from shop to shop without really seeing any of them. “I gave him a calming draught as soon as he could get it down without choking on it. He’s asleep now and will be for the next couple hours. I should get back up there though. You know, just in case.”

I nod wordlessly and brush some of the dust from my jeans before following him back up to the flat. Once we’re inside I stop and chew my lip.

“Would you mind if I…” I gesture towards George’s room as the conclusion to my question. Fred looks mildly surprised.

“Course not,” he says, “You can sit with him with me if you’d like. It’s usually what I do after…” He trails off, but I just nod and follow him into George’s room. Fred doesn’t hesitate to crawl onto the bed beside George’s slumbering form. He sits himself up by George’s head where he can comb his fingers through his brother’s hair with his back leaning against the wall. I watch uncertainly for a moment before crawling after him to sit silently beside him.

Then I turn my attention to George. His face is serene compared to how it was when I last saw it. I sit and watch the even rise and fall of his chest for several minutes before I can finally convince myself that he’s really okay now. Only then does the tension that I hadn’t noticed I was still carrying around with me drain away leaving me feeling used up and emotional. I slump back against the wall and blink back the tears that are just now inexplicably forming in my eyes.

“You alright?” Fred asks, placing a gentle hand on my shoulder. I sniffle before I can stop myself and Fred wraps his arm around my shoulders looking concerned. I press my face into the soft spot where his shoulder and his chest meet and nod. I let out a shaky breath and turn so my cheek is resting against him.

“Yeah,” I say shakily, wiping my cheeks and the evidence of my minor loss of control. He squeezes me against his side a little tighter and I clear my throat. “What exactly… What was that?” Fred sighs and runs his free hand through his hair.

“It was a panic attack,” he explains. “George gets them sometimes when he doesn’t know where I am. Like he’s not sure if I’m okay.” I nod to show not only that I understand what he’s telling me, but also that I understand what he’s not saying. George panics because one time when the twins were apart, Fred died. Well… 'died'. But whatever.

“How many… How often does this happen?” I ask in a whisper. Fred is quiet for a minute so I wait.

“This is the third time,” he admits. “It doesn’t happen very often. We try to stick to our schedules and check in regularly so it doesn’t.”

“Have you told your parents?” I breathe. I feel him shake his head, no.

“George… George likes to pretend that it doesn’t happen, and mum… Mum would be unbearable. Dad can’t keep any big secrets from mum so I haven’t told him either. And George made me swear not to anyway,” Fred explains in a carefully neutral tone, like he’s trying to pretend that it doesn’t bother him when clearly it does.

“So no one else knows?” I ask in a hushed voice, feeling troubled.

“Well…” Fred hesitates, “Don’t tell George, but I wrote to Charlie about it after the second time, so he knows.”

I nod, relief swooping through me. I don’t know why, but it feels important that Fred has someone to talk about this to. George will always have Fred, but if Fred can’t talk to George it’s good that he can at least talk to Charlie.

“That’s good. You haven’t been dealing with it alone then,” I say, allowing my eyes to flutter shut. Suddenly I’m exhausted. The events of the day seem to have sucked out all of my energy, leaving me just a husk of myself.

“I’m glad you know,” Fred says after several minutes of quiet. I’m not sure how to respond for a moment, but in the end I opt for the truth.

“Me too, but honestly? If I never have to see either of you like that again I will die happy. That was the scariest thing I’ve ever seen. Well, in the top three at least,” I correct after a moment of thought. Fred snorts slightly and we fall into silence once more.

“Would you mind too much if I fell asleep?” I mumble after a quarter hour or so. I’m just so tired and Fred is comfortable and I don’t want to leave George. Fred rests his cheek atop my head so I can feel him smile.

“I’d be insulted if you didn’t,” he says. I scoff, but snuggle closer anyway. As I drift off I can’t help but feel… I don’t know. A certain sense of belonging I guess. A connectedness that I haven’t felt before. Like I’ve been missing a piece to the puzzle that makes up _me_ and I never even knew it, but it doesn’t matter that I never had it before because I have it now. And it feels good. It feels like home.


	16. Learning from the Best

“Hey George wait a sec,” I call out, scrambling off the couch I’d been sharing with Fred to stop George just outside the kitchen. He woke up a few hours ago and wanted some time to himself so Fred and I kept mostly to ourselves for the day, but now that he’s finally left his room I want to talk to him. I feel like I can’t just not saying anything, but at the same time I don’t want to push him away or make him think I’m going to treat him any differently.

“What’s up?” he asks, obviously trying to look upbeat, but not quite pulling it off. Instead of answering I pull him into a hug. He stands stiffly for a moment before lifting his hands to pat my back awkwardly.

“Are you okay?” I ask. He shrugs and stuffs his hands into his pockets as I step back.

“I’m alright,” he says stiffly towards my left foot. I scrutinize his face. For what exactly, I don’t know. “Just… Just don’t worry about it, alright?” he says, looking up to my face with an almost pleading look upon his own.

“Sure,” I say after a moments hesitation. “Just know that I’m here for you. Anytime.” He nods jerkily, clearly very uncomfortably with the topic. “Hungry?” I ask with a big smile to change the subject. A grateful smile cracks through his stoic features at the question.

“Starving,” he replies. I roll my eyes fondly as we turn towards the kitchen.

“You Weasleys and your never ending appetite. I swear you lot eat enough in one meal to feed a small village for a week,” I tease, trying to bring us back to familiar territory. It works. George laughs and ruffles my hair as he passes me to get to the food room. I turn towards the living room to see Fred watching with raised brows. I shoot him a discrete wink to which he rolls his eyes and sighs as he slowly gets to his feet and stretches.

“Well to be fair we almost _are_ a small vila-AAAHHH!” George yells in surprise. I burst out laughing as I turn and see him standing just over the threshold of the kitchen frozen in place and covered head to toe in glitter. Fred just rolls his eyes again and tries to cover up his smile. George is still standing in the same place, only now looking up at the formerly invisible overturned bucket hovering above his head.

“That was payback for pitting me and Fred against each other,” I tell him smugly. “Oh and say cheese!” I taunt as I take my camera out of my back pocket and snap a photo. George looks incredulously first at me and then at Fred who just shrugs and shakes his head exasperatedly as though to say, ‘I tried to tell her but she wouldn’t listen.’

“Pathetic,” George mocks. “Fred and I had moved past buckets above doorways by the time we were, what? Six?”

“About then, yeah,” Fred agrees, giving me an I-told-you-so face. I roll my eyes and ignore him while stuffing my camera back in my pocket. He’s been trying to talk me out of my prank, unsuccessfully, all day. He just doesn’t see the potential.

“Be that as it may, I still got you,” I tell George smugly. “I flew so low under your radar that you weren’t expecting a thing.”

George scoffs, causing glitter to flutter serenely to the linoleum floor.

“Maybe, but a quick vanishing spell and it’s like it never happened,” he says arrogantly and then performs said spell, removing all visible traces of the offending glitter. I can’t help but to grin mischievously at his certainty.

“That’s what you think. Obviously you haven’t had much experience with glitter. It’s never truly gone.”

The twins trade looks that clearly agree I’m off my rocker. That’s fine. They’ll see.

“So lunch?” I suggest contentedly. The twins agree and turn to head into the kitchen. My smile widens to rival the Cheshire cat as I catch sight of a stray twinkle attached to George’s cheek and several more embedded in the back of his shirt. Even magic cannot compare to the awesome horror of glitter.

I hum to myself happily as I whip together several sandwiches out of the cold cuts Mrs. Weasley sent over after she heard that I’d be moving in with the boys; along with a mountain of other various food items. Apparently she doesn’t trust them to keep their cupboards stocked. Not that any of us are complaining.

I set the sandwich platter on the bar counter in front of the boys and snag the best one for myself while they each grab one, none of us bothering with individual plates. They just create more dishes to have to wash.

“So Cora, George and I talked and we decided that you should come along with us to the Burrow tonight,” Fred says randomly. I quirk an eyebrow from my position leaning with my hip propped against the counter opposite him.

“We’re going to prank Charlie,” George explains, leaning forward excitedly on his stool with a familiar gleam in his eyes.

“It’s been awhile since he’s been home,-”

“So we figure he deserves a proper welcome home gift.”

“And since you could obviously use some help in the prank department-,”

“We agreed that it’d be in your best interests to tag along-,”

“And see how the experts do it.”

They both explain and then puff out their chests in an attempt to seem impressive. I take my time chewing my most recent bite of sandwich before gracing them with my response.

“And when did the two of you discuss this?” I ask, hopefully conveying how unimpressed I am with their little show.

“Just now,” they answer in unison. I roll my eyes. _Of course_.

“And you want to show me the ropes on pranking?” I ask dubiously. They nod enthusiastically and Fred throws in a pair of puppy dog eyes for good measure.

“Fine,” I sigh. “The puppy face was a bit overkill though,” I tease Fred.

“Got the job done didn’t it,” he says, buffing his nails against the front of his shirt. I roll my eyes and turn to exit the room to hide my smile.

“Let me know when it’s go time,” I call over my shoulder.

**.**

**|16|~*~|16|**

**.**

“Fred! George!” I yell, still staring down at the parchment in my hands in stunned disbelief.

“What is it?” Fred bursts into the sitting room closely followed by George, both looking for whatever danger caused me to shout.

“I got accepted,” I tell them sounding bewildered. “I have an interview on Tuesday at one.” I finally look up at them and can’t stop the smile that is suddenly taking over my face. I watch as the twins register that I’m not in danger and then it sinks in.

“You what?” Fred exclaims, positively beaming.

“I told you so!” George crows, looking ecstatic all the same as he grabs my hands and begins flinging me around the room in a victory dance while singing, “We did it! We did it! We did it!”.

“Oh stuff it,” I tell him still grinning as I pull my hands out of his. He plops a kiss on my forehead causing me to grimace and wipe it off.

“Don’t get too excited. I still have to get through the interview. But they were really impressed by the high recommendations by Flitwick and Kingsley so even though I don’t have hardly any experience they say they’re willing to give me a shot,” I explain, looking mainly at Fred who’s still grinning broadly. I really want his approval on this. Not to tell me that I’m allowed or not allowed to do this, but because I want his support. I want him to be proud of me.

“That’s brilliant Cora,” Fred says, his eyes dancing happily.

“Thanks,” I respond, grinning shyly. Then he pulls me into a surprise hug and I swear my heart forgets what it’s supposed to be doing. At first it seems like it stops and then it starts up again too fast and all over the place. I feel my cheeks heat up and hope it’s not too noticeable. I don’t want to come across as some school girl with a crush.

Fred pulls back from the hug and I see George over his shoulder making kissing faces at me. I do the mature thing and scrunch up my nose and stick my tongue out at him. Luckily George’s stunt manages to break the ice and I feel my face go back to it’s usual temperature.

“My wife’s going to be a prodigy at the Ministry,” Fred brags to George. My cheeks flush again, but neither boy notices as their too busy trying to one up the other.

“Oh yeah? Well my wife is going to be an international Quidditch star!”

“Yeah, well at least mine will be home every night!”

“Well mine is going to get me free game tickets. All the time!”

“Mine is going to…”

I tune them out as they continue acting like five year olds and turn back to my letter with a small smile on my face. I start walking slowly back to my room as I re-read the letter.

_Dear Miss Rivers,_

_We are intrigued by your recommendations coming from Mr. Shacklebolt and Professor Flitwick and would like to extend to you the opportunity to interview for a position in the Ministry of Magic’s Experimental Charms department…_

**.**

**|16|~*~|16|**

**.**

Fred, George, and I are squatting outside the Burrow in one of Mrs. Weasley’s tired old Flutterby bushes near the kitchen window watching Charlie simultaneously chat with Mrs. Weasley and sneak food while she pretends not to notice.

“Okay,” George murmurs quietly. “Fred you go play decoy and Cora and I-,”

“Oh no, I was decoy last time!” Fred complains in a loud whisper. George rolls his eyes.

“ _Fine_. I’ll play decoy then. You and Cora sneak up to Charlie’s room and get busy alright?”

I almost choke on my spit.

“ _What?_ ” I sputter, not nearly as quietly as the twins.

“Shhh!” they shush me in unison.

“Not that kind of busy Cora,” George says and gives me a ‘duh stupid’ kind of look, but there is too much amusement twinkling in his eyes and I see right through his charade. Little git did that on purpose. So I shove his shoulder hard knocking him into the dirt.

“Ow!” George whisper shouts. I just smirk and turn to Fred.

“You heard him Fred. We need to get busy,” I announce and then crawl out of the bush, failing to notice Fred’s hard swallow and red-tipped ears. Once we’re all out of the bush and out of sight of the kitchen window I vanish the dirt from our clothes and motion for George to lead the way.

The three of us enter the Burrow and George heads straight into the kitchen while Fred and I hide in the entryway lest someone catch sight of us lurking.

“George!” I hear Mrs. Weasley exclaims as the door swings shut and Fred and I silently start for the stairs. “Where’s Fred?”

“Oh he and Cora had to stay back for a few minutes,” George lies easily. “Cora didn’t like her outfit and had to change it. Again. And then her hair just wouldn’t cooperate today I’m afraid,” George continues with a long suffering sigh at the end.

I bare my teeth and change course for the kitchen to go wring his neck, but Fred’s strong arm catches me about the waist and hauls me up onto his shoulder so that I’m hanging down his back. He starts up the stairs, seemingly not having a problem carrying me and avoiding the creaky spots at the same time. I punch him in the side out of principle, but can’t quite ignore the excitable butterflies erupting in my belly or the way his warm hand feels against the back of my thigh.

Fred stops at the second door on the left up the rickety stairs and waves his wand over it. The tip of his wand glows orange, causing Fred to smirk.

“Cute try Char,” he mutters under his breath before casting a spell at the door, more than likely undoing whatever Charlie did to try and protect his turf. Fred then cautiously opens the door and steps in. He glances around the room, but makes no move to put me back down so I clear my throat to remind him of the situation.

Fred chuckles and finally sets me back on my feet. All the blood that rushed to my head while I was upside down starts rushing back to where it belongs, causing me to wobble just a tad. Fred grabs my arm before I can go anywhere and waits while I blink and steady myself.

“You okay?” he asks in a concerned whisper, looking me in the eyes. I notice that his face is very close to mine. I can see his individual freckles and feel his warm breath on my face and instead of being really gross it’s actually attractive and that’s absolutely terrifying.

“Y-yeah I’m fine,” I breathe back, unable to break eye contact with him. Fred smiles and I can’t help but to smile too. God I’ve gotten pathetic.

“We’ve got to be quick,” Fred reminds me. “George can only distract him for so long before he starts to get suspicious.” I nod and look around Charlie’s room for the first time as I prepare to get to work.

It’s pretty sparse as far as bedrooms go, but I suppose that’s to be expected since he doesn’t actually live here anymore. There’s some dirty laundry on the floor along with some books and magazines, all having to do with either Quidditch or dragons. Shocker. There’s a bookshelf on the left wall that’s only half full, but Charlie probably has most of his stuff in Romania. Then there’s his bed and bedding and that’s pretty much it.

Fred hands me a large handful of little plastic sticks about the size of muggle Pixy Stix. Fred and George explained them to me back at their flat. They call them Expando Stix. Pretty unimaginative, but they’ve got time before they’re actually put out on the market. How they work is you crack them in the middle like a glow stick and then they start to expand, encasing everything in a half meter radius in a styrofoam like material.

So the joke here is that we’re going to use them on every single item Charlie owns; pillows, shoes, clothes, books, toiletries, everything and anything we can get our hands on. Anything he wants to use after today he will have to rescue from it’s foam sphere. Oh and did I mention that the foam is impervious to magic? So not only does he have to break them open by hand, but when he’s done and it’s crumbled all over the floor, he can’t just magic the mess away.

Fred and I make quick work of Charlie’s room. I let him take care of the porn stash found under the mattress. No way am I touching those. And in return he makes me in charge of his broom, knowing that I won’t get hell for it like he would. All in all it takes under five minutes for us to transform Charlie’s room from an average bedroom into a styrofoam hell chamber. I chuckle a bit to myself as I look around and give myself a mental pat on the back for a job well done.

“What’s so funny?” Fred asks in a low voice to keep the kitchen’s occupants from overhearing us.

“Hmm? Oh nothing.” I turn to look at him and find that while I was looking around the room he was looking at me. Fred smiles a little looking amused and shakes his head.

“Can I ask you something?” he asks suddenly, the amused smile gone, in its place an almost nervous expression.

“Sure,” I answer, my brow furrowing as I wonder what question he could have that would make him this serious and that had to be asked now.

“Well…” he starts off slowly, focusing on the leftover Expando Stix he’s rolling between his fingers. “I was just wondering… George and Angelina’s wedding is in a few days and well...Would you be my date? I mean not as my future wife as assigned by the Ministry, “ Fred explains with a grimace, talking faster now and running a nervous hand through his hair and still avoiding looking at my face. “But because _I_ want to go with _you_ ,” he finishes, finally looking up into my face with nervous blue eyes.

It’s so not fair that he is so attractive. The blue eyes, the freckles, the hair, the broad shoulders. I mean _drool_. And he’s more than just his looks. He’s funny and smart and kind and compassionate and loves his family more than anything. It’s so not fair. And then there’s me. Average height. Plain hair. Plain face. Plain body. Nothing special. But here he is asking me to his twin’s wedding because he _wants_ to be there with me. Suddenly those pesky butterflies are back full force and my brain is stuttering on the only word it can seem to remember exists.

“Yes,” I say. “I mean yeah. Sure. I’d love to,” I ramble. Fred beams and doesn’t seem to mind how awkward I am. Instead he leans in close and kisses me on the cheek. I feel his soft lips brush against my skin for only a second, but my face flushes pink and my heart starts doing that spasm thing again. Fred leans back out and his happiness is almost palpable and would definitely be contagious if I wasn’t already on overload.

“C’mon, let’s go,” he whispers, his face still distractingly close to mine, but then he grabs my hand directing my focus elsewhere and leads me quietly from the room. I try to step where he steps, I really do, but he’s got me so distracted and his hand is still in mine and I’m focused more on it than his feet and where they’re stepping. I mean really. Who cares about feet? Hands though…

“This isn’t working,” Fred whispers. We’re about halfway down the staircase and the chance of getting caught gets higher with each second that passes, but I keep hitting creaky spots. Fred crinkles his brow in thought for a minute and then clears his expression as an idea comes to him. He lets go of my hand. I try not to let my disappointment show on my face, but it must because Fred certainly looks amused.

“Oh don’t look like that,” he teases. I glare as embarrassment floods through my nerve endings. He’s not supposed to know. “Hop on my back,” he tells me. I don’t move. He wants to give me a piggyback ride. Down stairs. Need I remind you that we are basically the same height? I don’t want to die. Or become a cripple.

“Oh come on,” Fred says in exasperation upon seeing my face. “I’m not going to let you fall. Promise.”

I eye him dubiously, but he turns his back to me and crouches a bit and I climb on anyway. I wrap my legs tight over his middle and drape my arms around his neck careful not to strangle him. He starts down the stairs without another word, moving much quicker than we were with me walking and before I know it we’re at the bottom. He doesn’t stop and let me off though, instead he keeps walking right to the front door at the opposite end of the hall.

He makes a big to-do of opening and shutting the door like we’ve just come in and even starts up a conversation that we’ve apparently been having since before we got here.

“Aww c’mon Cora,” he whines loudly. “You aren’t having at least a little fun?”

I don’t need his gentle nudge in the side to see where he’s going with this and what my role is.

“Fred Weasley you put me down this instant!” I exclaim, thumping his chest a bit for authenticity.

“You know you like it!” Fred teases as he continues our course to the kitchen.

“Fred!” I groan. Fred just chuckles and pushes open the door to the kitchen where George, Charlie, and Mrs. Weasley are all waiting looking amused. I sigh in defeat and rest my chin atop Fred’s head trying to look at least irritated. I catch sight of George’s smug smile and remember his story to Mrs. Weasley earlier and suddenly the emotion isn’t all that difficult to conjure up.

“Fred you put that poor girl down,” Mrs. Weasley scolds him, having to cover her mouth with her hand to hide her smile.

“But muuuum,” Fred whines, grinning unabashed.

“Fred,” Mrs. Weasley says sternly.

“Oh fine,” Fred says, finally defeated, and allows me to slide down his back. I don’t get very far before Fred grabs my hand again and takes us to the seats beside George at the table. This escapes neither George’s or Mrs. Weasley’s notice and I feel my face flush again at all the attention.

“George you’ve got something on your face,” Mrs. Weasley suddenly stops and says. “It looks like glitter.”

My smile widens and suddenly my irritation at George for his comments about me to Mrs. Weasley disappears in the face of immense satisfaction. Fred and George both turn and look at me with expressions of incredulity and bewilderment. I don’t even have any mocking words for them. I just continue to smile, possibly in a slightly maniacal way that has Charlie looking concerned.

Dinner passes much faster than usual, but at the same time it seems like it lasts forever. I meet Charlie’s fiance for the first time. A tough looking girl named Amanda who laughs a lot and grew up on a farm and gets Charlie to look at her like he’s the luckiest guy on earth without even trying. Her and I get along pretty well and we talk a lot about our families and share some funny stories from growing up much to the delight of the Weasleys and co.

Hermione and I talk about the benefits of growing up in the muggle world and Ginny and I swap embarrassing stories about the twins. Granted she has a lot more than I do, but I’m a good listener. And all throughout the night Fred holds my hand. I feel silly gushing on about it, but it’s nice. It’s really nice. After dinner we all sit in the sitting room and talk and he sits next to me and holds my hand on my knee and we don’t even talk to each other, but it’s nice. Really nice.

 

 


	17. Fluff N Stuff

“What are you doing?" I demand, still half asleep and rubbing my eyes.

George drops the cardboard box on top of the pile by the door and straightens, wiping the back of his hand across his sweaty brow. He’s obviously been up for awhile, which is surprising since it’s barely seven and he had his stag night last night after Percy’s wedding. He and Fred didn’t get back until around three in the morning. I would know since I waited up to make sure Fred and Lee hadn’t gotten him too pissed. Today is his wedding day after all and it would be unseemly if the bride were to murder the groom before the vows. That is if the mother of the groom didn’t get a hold of him first.

“What does it look like I’m doing?” George asks in return with an amused grin as he gestures at the boxes.

“It looks like you’re moving things,” I say with an unhappy frown. Then it hits me like a bowling ball to the gut. George is moving out. George is getting married tonight. He’s not going to be right down the hall for me to pester whenever I want. He’s going to be moving in with the love of his life and start a family with her and I’m not going to get to see him everyday.

“It looks like you’re moving things the muggle way,” I amend, trying to save face. It wouldn’t do for him to know that I’m so naive that I didn’t even realise he’d begin living somewhere else with his new wife starting tonight. Unfortunately something must have shown on my face, because George’s expression softens and he holds his arms out for a rare hug. Normally I’d protest because 1.) He’s all sweaty and 2.) I’m not a hugger, but who knows when I’ll see him after tonight.

So I push aside my pride and step into his arms, resting my head on his shoulder and throwing my arms around his waist. He holds me close and rests his cheek on top of my head.

“Oh Cora,” he sighs. “You said it yourself that the four of us would never manage to fit in here. What did you think was going to happen?”

“I don’t know,” I mumble into his shirt. Honestly, I think I was just too preoccupied with being nervous about my interview next week at the Ministry. I push those thoughts out of my head and breath in his soothing George smell which is a little extra strong this morning. I crinkle my nose.

“You stink,” I tell him. “How long have you been up?”

“Oh just a little while ,” he evades. I pull out of the hug and give him a look that turns into a playful smile.

“You’re nervous,” I state, poking him in the chest. George shrugs and rubs the back of his head.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he says and then smiles in a self-deprecating manner. I roll my eyes and then he continues. “I just… This seems really fast you know?”

I scoff.

“Yah. I know,” I deadpan. He grins.

“Of course you would,” he says. “But I just can’t help but think this is too good to be true. With the way we were shoved together it just feels like something is bound to fall apart eventually.”

I wish I could tell him that everything will be okay. That him and Angie are perfect for each other and they’ll be happy together forever, but I don’t know these things and I can’t lie to him. Not to George, my brother by choice. So I just nod empathetically and then do what my dad always does in difficult situations. Offer food.

“Want me to make pancakes for breakfast?” I ask. George grins and nods eagerly.

“Are the Chudley Cannons going continue to embarrass their fans this season?” he replies. I chuckle and take that as an ‘absolutely’ and lead the way to the kitchen.

**.**

**|17|~*~|17|**

**.**

I chew my lip anxiously and awkwardly as I stand in the corner of Angelina’s bedroom while she, Alicia, Katie, and Angie’s mother all cry over how beautiful she looks in her wedding dress. She does look beautiful, stunning really. She’s wearing an A-line gown that hugs her curves and flows elegantly to the carpet in a way that makes her look slender and majestic. The white fabric sets off her chocolate colored skin and makes her bright brown eyes pop. The tears help with that as well.

I just feel completely out of place. In more ways than one. I'm in a simple light bluish purple dress held up with thin shoulder straps. It's a satin-like material that cinches at the waist and flares out to my knees. It's very understated compared to the other girls, Angie’s bridesmaids, in their matching gold floor length gowns. I hold in a giggle as I sing in my head, _‘One of these things is not like the other’_. Trust me that I was completely flattered when Angie asked me to help her get ready for her big day, but I feel like I’m intruding on a private moment.

A well-timed knock at the bedroom door rescues me from this awkward situation. I take it upon myself to answer it while the other four ladies wipe their cheeks and giggle about how silly they’re being.

“Yes?” I ask, cracking the door open a fraction in case it’s George trying something funny. It’s not though. It’s Fred. I narrow my eyes.

“What are you doing here?” I demand untrustingly, popping a hand on my hip. Fred doesn’t answer. Instead I watch as his eyes slowly wander down my body.

“Ahem,” I say and snap my fingers up by my face. His eyes shoot back up to mine and a slow unapologetic grin crawls across his lips. He leans his shoulder into the doorframe and gets comfortable.

“You look gorgeous,” he tells me easily. I fight the blush threatening my cheeks and make a show of inspecting him in his outfit with raised eyebrows.

“You don’t look too bad yourself,” I reply. “Although I just saw you in dress robes yesterday so you know, it’s nothing special.” I smirk. Fred gasps and leans forward slightly as he responds.

“But _those_ ones were light slate grey and _these_ ones are golden poppy! And please note the pressed collar,” he says straightening up to smooth his collar in demonstration. I hold in a giggle and make my eyes go comically wide as though I’d just noticed.

“Oh you’re right!” I exclaim with false enthusiasm as I pet my hand across one of his shoulders. “These are much better. What was Percy thinking?” I tisk before allowing my grin to emerge. Fred grins back. We have been driving Mrs. Weasley mad the last few days by making fun of the ridiculous names of the colors for the dresses and dress robes. They’re all so pretentious that it’s impossible not to.

“Oh just snog and get it over with already!” Angie cat calls from behind us.

I jerk back, belatedly realizing just how close together we’re standing and that we have an audience. I turn to stick my tongue out at her, knowing that she’s going to be giving me an earful later. All traces of her tears are gone and she just raises her eyebrows as though she’s asking, ‘When did this start and why wasn’t I told?’

“And what divine act of Merlin has allowed you to grace us with your presence, Fred Weasley?” she asks with her hands on her hips. Fred smiles ruefully and ruffles the back of his hair.

“George wants a word with Cora here,” he replied, jerking his thumb at me. I scowl at him even though I’m not annoyed at all. Fred Weasley. My saving grace. How cliché.

“Well take her away then,” Angie says in a regal tone, flicking her wrist dismissively. Someone is certainly enjoying being bridezilla for the day, although she may be getting a bit too into the role. “Not too much snogging along the way though you hear? I can’t have the best man miss the ceremony,” she adds, dropping the accent and winking at me. I glare at her through my blush and turn and exit the room with Fred, shutting the door behind me although I can still hear their giggles and Katie’s exclamation of ‘They’re so cute!’

I see Fred looking at me, but I can’t bring myself to look up from examining the baseboards. He reaches over and takes my hand in his and gives it a squeeze.

“Don’t listen to them alright?” he says. “Who cares what they think?”

I let out a long breath and nod before finally looking up to his face with a grimace.

“You’re right. It’s just embarrassing is all,” I admit reluctantly. Fred frowns causing his brow to crinkle.

“Are you embarrassed of me?” he asks hesitantly. I blink in surprise and shake my head emphatically.

“No, of course not!” I assure him. “It’s just… I’m not used to this. To… to…”

“Flirting,” he supplies helpfully, teasing grin back in place. I blush again.

“Yes,” I confess, looking back down at the baseboards. “It’s just different for me is all. And I’m not really sure what I should be doing. And I keep making things awkward between us because I’m awkward and-,”

“You’re not awkward,” Fred interrupts me. I tear my gaze away from the baseboards so he can see my expression of intense disbelief.

“No really,” he insists earnestly. “Just in there we were flirting and you weren’t awkward at all. It was great. It’s only when you start to overthink things that you get uncomfortable. When you’re just… When you’re just being you you’re not awkward at all. You keep me on my toes. I think you’re brilliant.”

Now I’m truly embarrassed. I’m not used to being on the receiving end of such sincere compliments. I’m usually not the one giving them either, to be honest. I like to keep things neat and tidy with teasing and sarcasm rather than having to deal with messy emotions and feelings.

Fred takes a step towards me, breaking me out of my thoughts. My back is already against the wall, so there’s nowhere for me to go as he invades my space; not that my legs would be capable of taking me anywhere with the look he’s giving me. My gaze flicks from his eyes to his lips to his chest and then back up to his eyes while his hasn’t wavered a bit from looking me directly in the eyes.

He takes one last step forward, now so close that I can feel his body heat through my thin satiny dress. My breath hitches in my chest and I have the sudden urge to wipe my sweaty palms on my thighs, but I’m afraid to move. Not afraid like I’m afraid of Fred, but afraid that I might ruin the moment. I happen to be good at that.

“Should we just get this over with?” he asks softly and then lifts a hand to brush a stray lock of my hair behind my ear, his fingertips skimming gently across my cheek.

“Umm what exactly are we getting over?” I ask distractedly, swallowing hard. My thoughts are scattered in a million different directions; like the feel of his skin against mine and the buzzing in my head and how impossibly blue his eyes are and how they’re focused solely on me.

“This,” he whispers. His eyes flick down to my lips as he leans in until our noses brush. He glances up one more time at my eyes, but I wouldn’t be able to say no at this point even if I’d wanted to. My eyelids flutter shut and then his lips are on mine and all of the thoughts that had been whirling around my head a moment before cease to exist. His soft lips move against mine and I respond by moving mine back, purely on instinct. The sensation causes me to inhale sharply through my nose, flooding my senses with Fred’s scent.

Fred makes a noise in the back of his throat and presses closer than I’d thought possible. Suddenly his body is flush against mine and one hand is threading itself through my hair while the other slides behind my back to keep me close. He deepens the kiss, tilting my face up to meet his lips better while my heart beats wildly. He runs his tongue over my bottom lip and I gasp.

Suddenly he pulls back, sucking in a sharp breath, looking just as dazed as I feel. He doesn’t step away or move his hands. He instead just stands there, still holding me and trying to catch his breath while I do the same. My mind is racing, but none of my thoughts make sense, or maybe they’re just moving too quickly for my sluggish brain to comprehend. I probably look like a fool as I just stand and blink up at Fred.

“Well that was…” Fred trails off as he looks down at my mouth and then back up at me as he licks his lips. “I was trying to make things easier, but I think I just made them harder.”

I can’t help but to smile at how lost and bewildered he looks even though I have no idea what he’s talking about.

“You what now?” I ask, my voice coming out hoarse. Fred’s face pinches into a pained expression and he closes his eyes.

“I thought,” he begins, swallowing with difficulty, “That if we got our first kiss out of the way then things would get easier between us.”

I frown.

“Are things not going to be easy between us?” I ask in concern. Fred chuckles darkly causing something sharp to spike in my belly. I bite my lip.

“Not for me,” he says gruffly and then opens his eyes. They’re immediately drawn to the lip pinched between my teeth. Before I can even register what’s happening both of his hands are cupping my face and his lips are on mine once more as his body presses mine against the wall.

Fred takes my lower lips between his teeth and nibbles gently before pulling it into his warm mouth. A low sound vibrates in the back of my throat and I press back against Fred without any cognitive thought. Fred sucks in a sharp breath through his nose and moves a hand from my face to grip my hip as presses his lips harder against mine and moves them faster.

Without warning, he once again pulls back and we’re both gasping for air and looking at each other in bewilderment. Then his expression slowly changes and he’s looking at me that way that guys look at girls in the movies. Like, how could I have gotten so lucky to have found such an amazing person just for me? It’s exciting and terrifying at the same time, but overall just leaves me filled with a warm loved feeling.

“You’ll have to stop biting your lip like that,” Fred says eventually.

“Oh yeah?” I ask, a slow smile spreading across my face. “And why’s that?”

“Because I’m probably going to kiss you like that everytime you do it,” he responds without a hint of embarrassment.

“Well I guess I’m just not seeing the problem then,” I tease. Fred grins back and his eyes glint in an almost predatory way as he leans in to put his lips to the shell of my ear.

“The problem is that I’m not going to want to stop,” he breathes.

“Oh,” I say, my cheeks pink. Fred nods, looking back into my eyes, his pupils dilated and the blue of his irises darker than usual.

“And it’s just going to be me and you at the flat now,” he continues seriously.

“ _Oh_ ,” I repeat.

“Oh,” Fred agrees nodding. “It’s going to be a very long two weeks.”

That it is indeed.

**.**

**|17|~*~|17|**

**.**

A short time later I stagger into Fred and George’s old bedroom at the Burrow. I shut the door behind me and lean back against the solid wood with my head tipped back as I simply breathe. I still feel like I haven’t quite caught my breath after kissing Fred. I guess he just has that effect on me.

“It’s about time! Where have you-,” George stops his rant suddenly as he takes in my posture. “What’s wrong?” he asks instead, looking concerned. I remove myself from the door and press my lips together in a futile attempt to stop a smile. He raises his eyebrows and crosses his arms as he waits.

“Fred ah-,” I start slowly. “He ah-,”

“Did he finally kiss you?” George asks, dropping his arms to his sides in shock. There is no holding back my smile now as I confirm his question with a nod. George lets out a loud whoop and scoops me into a bear hug and swings me around, making me laugh.

“Put me down you prat,” I say as I half-heartedly thump his arm with the heel of my hand. George squeezes me again before complying and then still holds me at arms length grinning as he looks me over.

“It’s about damn time,” he finally says, letting me go. “I was worried that he was going to wait until the wedding!” I just smile and shake my head at him. Honestly nothing could bring down my mood right now.

“So how was it eh?” George asks teasingly, elbowing my arm. I glare playfully back.

“None of your business Weasley,” I respond snootily. George rolls his eyes and puts up his hands in surrender.

“Fine, fine. Don’t tell me any details,” he exclaims. “I don’t need to hear that kind of thing about Fred anyway! But he did it right didn’t he?” he asks, suddenly serious. “He was good to you?” I roll my eyes at the question, but am secretly pleased that George is looking out for my best interests just like a big brother would. Although I’m technically his elder by half a year.

“Yes. It was perfect,” I tell him honestly. I don’t even care that Ang and the girls were right on the other side of the wall. I wouldn’t want to change a thing.

“Good,” George says after checking my face for sincerity.

“So what’s the big emergency?” I ask, bringing us to the reason he asked for me to come. His face falls a bit and he shrugs.

“Oh you know,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s not really an emergency per say. It’s just…” He doesn’t need to finish. I smile sympathetically.

“Pre-wedding jitters?” I ask, purposely downplaying his anxiety. George nods and shrugs like it’s not a big deal, but obviously it is or he wouldn’t have had Fred come get me especially while he knew I was with Angie.

“Take a seat,” I tell him, gesturing to one of the twin sized beds occupying the room. George does what I said without question and sits on the edge of the bed. I hold the skirt of my dress to the side as I climb up to plop down cross-legged behind him and then begin rubbing his shoulders. He immediately drops his chin to his chest and groans as I work his tense muscles. I’m silent at first, thinking over everything I want to say. Everything I think he needs to hear.

“Just so you know Angie is over there just as nervous and unsure as you are about this whole deal,” I begin speaking slowly, taking my time and being choosy with my words while removing the tension from George’s shoulders. “But I think the two of you are good together. And even if it doesn’t work out with you two falling in love and living happily ever after, I still think you two could at least be good friends.”

“How are you expecting me to focus on words,” George grunts out as I continue to rub the knots in his muscles, “While you’re doing this?”

I chuckle and move on to his neck, making him sigh in relief.

“That’s the point Georgie dear. You know as well as I do that I’m just pulling all of this out of my arse,” I joke. George chuckles and we go quiet for a few minutes as I continue to do what I can to help my best friend feel better about this whole mess.

“What if…” George quietly begins and then stops. “What if I don’t want to be just friends?” he asks, revealing that he can focus on my words just fine while being massaged. “What if that’s the problem?” I smile sadly although he can’t see it.

“For what it’s worth, Angie doesn’t want to be just friends with you either,” I tell him gently. I’m quiet for a minute as I let him digest this. “If both of you care as much as you say you do and as much as you act like you do, you guys will make it just fine, George.”

As soon as the words are out of my mouth George’s shoulders finally fully relax beneath my fingertips.

“That’s exactly what I needed to hear,” he murmurs quietly. I smile and continue to rub his shoulders and neck until there is a knock at the door and Fred walks in. He stops in the doorway when he sees us and scowls.

“Hey! Those are my back rubs you’re stealing you great prat!” he complains loudly. I scowl and George pops his head up to smirk at his brother.

“Not anymore brother dearest,” George tells him and then stands up and stretches languidly. “Ahhh. I feel _great_ ,” he says with exaggerated relief. “Thanks Cora.”

I scowl at him too. No way are they going to think that they can just get a free back rub out of me anytime they please. Back rubs are reserved for special occasions only and are given out of my goodwill. Fred turns to me and opens his mouth, but I hold up a hand and give him a stern stare.

“If you don’t want me to swear against ever giving you any sort of massage ever in your life you will bite back whatever sexist comment was about to spew out of your mouth and you will keep it to yourself,” I warn him, deathly serious. Fred shuts his mouth and swallows. _Thank you_ , I think to myself.

“Er- it’s time to head down. George, you need to be in the tent in your spot and Cora, mum said something about the coloring of the bridesmaids' bouquets being off,” Fred informs us instead. I groan at the mention of the flowers. Since Mrs. Weasley found out that I’m fairly decent at charms she’s been calling on me to do all of the charms work that needs doing for the weddings.

George glances over at me and I suddenly realize that this is my last moment with him before he marries Angelina. The thought tugs my lips down into a sad frown.

“What’s wrong?” he asks. I shrug and fiddle with my fingers.

“I’m just going to miss you is all,” I admit. George rolls his eyes.

“C’mere,” he says, holding out his arms for the second time today. And for the second time I don’t hesitate to hug him.

“It’s not like you’re never going to see me,” he says in a gentle, amused tone that causes tears to prick my eyes. “I still have to work you know, and you live right above the shop.”

“I know,” I sigh. “I’m just being a stupid girl.”

“It’s okay,” George says, patting me on the back. “You can’t help it. It’s your DNA.”

“And suddenly I don’t feel like I’m going to miss you that much,” I announce, pulling out of the hug. George grins arrogantly.

“Mission accomplished,” he gloats. I glare at him.

“Still feeling nervous Georgie?” I mock him. “You’d better not barf during the ceremony. I slaved over a hot stove to make those pancakes this morning and I won’t have you wasting them.”

“Hold on,” Fred interrupts suddenly. “You made pancakes this morning?”

George and I both freeze like deer caught in headlights.

“Er- You were sleeping?” I offer up as a tentative excuse. Fred’s jaw drops and he looks between us in betrayal.

“Er- Gotta go,” George suddenly says, skirting around his brother and heading for the door. “Wedding to be at you know.” He then waves and slips out the door.

“What he said,” I say with a hasty smile and make to go around Fred as well.

“Oh no. I don’t think so,” Fred says, grabbing my arm and carefully tugging me back so that I’m forced to stand much closer to him than I normally would.

“I think I deserve an apology,” he says, his eyes glittering playfully. His grin is infectious and I can’t help but to grin back.

“Oh do you now?” I ask, attempting to look haunty with my arms crossed.

“I do,” Fred says, placing his hands on my hips and closing the space between us.

**.**

**|17|~*~|17|**

**.**

The ceremony was beautiful. Angelina looked like a goddess gliding down the center of the tent with eyes only for George. I only looked at her for a moment though before I turned back to watch George. He looked the happiest I’d ever seen him. They say that the bride is the one glowing on her wedding day, but today George was glowing just as bright. That, more than anything, allowed me to relax and smile knowing that I’d told George the right thing. The two of them would be just fine.

My absolute favorite part of the ceremony though was before the bride walked down the aisle or the vows were exchanged or the binding spell was cast. It was before half the guests had arrived even. It was when George was standing at the back of the tent and Mrs. Weasley came over to him and began fussing with his clothes.

“George where does this glitter keep coming from?” Mrs. Weasley snapped stressfully while rubbing at something on the back of George’s neck. “I swear your hair still sparkles when you walk. What have you been doing?”

George’s expression of absolute horror and fear over his mother’s shoulder was probably the best thing I’ve ever seen in my life. We made eye contact and I made sure to give him a wolfish smile before turning and sauntering away. Take that. Teach him to underestimate me.

The rest of the ceremony flew by and suddenly we’re cutting the cake and laughing and chatting and celebrating. Of course I’m truly happy for George, but I can’t help but be just a little sad at the same time.

“You are stunning,” Fred lips brush my ear as he whispers to me from behind. I twist around in my metal chair on the outskirts of the room and give him a look.

“You’ve already told me that once today,” I remind him, tugging self-consciously at the hem of my periwinkle dress.

“Because it’s true,” he tells me. “You want to dance?”

“Umm I’m not any good,” I tell him awkwardly. I’m truly not. I’m awful. Fred shrugs.

“So?” he asks. “Who cares how you look? Let’s just go have fun instead of hiding clear over here, yeah?”

I blush and allow him to tug me to my feet and lead me to the dance floor. He's right. I am hiding. I’m not sure who exactly from, but I’m just feeling a little strange. Just like I’m off balance somehow and I don’t know how to get my feet back under me.

We arrive on the dance floor and it’s a slow song so Fred rests his hands on my waist and I wrap my arms around his neck and we just sway. Nothing fancy, which is good, because I’d probably just fall on my face. Or worse, trip Fred and have him land on his face.

“How are your siblings doing?” Fred asks after a short silence. I glance up at him in surprise before allowing my eyes to look back down to his shoulder. I shrug.

“They’re fine. Happy,” I tell him and it’s the truth. They are happy. Well except for Seb, but that’s only because he has to go back to Hogwarts and take his seventh year since he missed it last year. But he’s happy he doesn’t have to marry anyone, so there is that. And Rylie is ecstatic with her match, a boy named Anthony.

He’s been her crush all throughout Hogwarts, but he hasn’t ever really noticed her because he was a popular Ravenclaw two years above her and their paths never really crossed. Now though I can tell he’s smitten. Although that didn’t stop me from threatening his livelihood in the beginning, much to Rylie’s humiliation. But hey, that’s my job.

And Jon really surprised us all. He’s always been kind of odd, not to the Luna Lovegood extreme, but he’s always done his own thing and lived in his own little universe. Then when his match turned up, a lovely girl named Lisa, we were all pretty taken aback by her appearance. She wore heavy eyeliner and tight fitting all black clothing. Her hair was styled up in a large mohawk that was bleached on the sides and dyed black in the middle and she had a piercing in her nose and several more in both ears.

Of course none of us said anything, we didn’t want to offend the girl, but we were pretty shocked to say the least. This girl got matched to Jon? Jon who collects muggle chess sets? Jon who writes fantasy novels in his spare time and wants to learn how to breed clownfish? _Really?_

But we paid for our judgements when the pair immediately hit it off and dominated the dinner conversation talking about hobbits and magic and spaceships and time travel. Boy did we all feel like fools. Lisa was accepted into the family before she left the house that night. Anyone who can related to Jon like that and make him happy is good enough for us. Needless to say Lisa and Jon are happy together and taking it a day at a time in their relationship.

“Good,” Fred says, bringing me back to our conversation. “When are their weddings again?”

“Rylie’s is a week from today and Jon’s is the day before ours,” I tell him. He nods thoughtfully.

“Okay, we’ll be going together right?” he says. “I know you’re Rylie’s maid of honor, but otherwise we’ll be there together?” I tilt my head up to look him in the face and cock it to the side while I study him.

“You want to go?” I ask, almost disbelievingly. He looks down at me and frowns.

“Of course I do. They’re your family so now they’re mine too,” he says as though it should be obvious.

“Oh,” I reply. He rolls his eyes and smiles.

“You have no faith in me do you?” he asks playfully.

“Well I’m no fool,” I tease back. “How is your family doing?” I follow up, turning the conversation back to more serious topics. Fred shrugs.

“They’re all doing pretty well,” he says while letting his hands relax a bit from where they’re been holding my hips so that they slide around to my lower back and I’m forced to move a bit closer. “It helps that all of them were dating before all this. Well except George and Charlie, but as you can see both of them did alright,” he says with a smirk as he glances over at Charlie and his fiancée, Amanda who are sitting at a table together, her practically in his lap, and talking playfully. I nod. They did do alright.

“How are you handling this?” I ask after a moments hesitation. Fred doesn’t have to ask what I’m talking about, he just shrugs and looks down a bit.

“I’m doing alright,” he says after a stretch of silence while we continue to sway. “It’s going to be strange… Not living with George. He’s always been just a bed over or right down the hall.”

“Yeah,” I agree, letting my head fall and rest on his chest. “It won’t be too bad though I don’t think. At least you won’t be living completely alone.”

“There is that,” he says and begins rubbing his thumb in soothing circles on my back.

“Oi! Lovebirds! You’re a little off tempo!” George is suddenly beside us shouting over the music. I blink and look around at everyone jumping and dancing to the upbeat music and wonder when the song changed.

“Shove off,” Fred tells him with a grin, but makes no move to let me go. “We’ll dance however we want.” George rolls his eyes.

“Oh by the way,” I chip in, “You’ve got a little something sparkly on your nose.” George immediately begins frantically rubbing his nose, causing me to laugh and bury my face in Fred’s shirt front.

“You little minx,” George says with narrowed eyes when he realizes that I’ve tricked him.

The rest of the night passes quickly. I dance with George and Lee, but mostly with Fred. Angie even gets me to dance with her, Katie, and Alicia a few times as well, but we’re too busy laughing at ourselves to make any real effort. Then before I know it George and Angie are flying off to their new house and the guests are leaving. I offer to help Mrs. Weasley and few other ladies clear up, but she waves me off and tells me to get Fred home and get some rest. It’s been a long weekend with two weddings.

Fred and I apparate back to the flat and we both just stand there in the sitting room for a few minutes, unsure of what to do. It already feels different without George here.

“Have you looked in his room yet?” I ask softly, noticing that George’s bedroom door down the hall is open when it’s usually shut. Fred shakes his head.

“I don’t want to see it all empty,” he admits. I take a hesitant step towards the hall and then resolve myself and walk until I’m just outside George’s old room. It feels weird calling it his old room. Just this morning it was his, but now it’s almost barren. The bed is made up with clean sheets and blankets tugged smooth over the mattress.

All of George’s half finished experiments are gone along with the various articles of clothing that usually litter the floor. The bin has been dumped and the bits of wadded up parchment that usually decorate the floor around it are all missing. His desk is clear for the first time that I’ve seen and his bookshelf is empty and looming. I stand there for a moment longer and then shut the door.

“We should have a slumber party,” I announce as I re-enter the sitting room, only for Fred not to be there.

“A what?”

I follow his voice to the kitchen where I find him making tea and pulling out a package of biscuits.

“A slumber party,” I repeat. “You know, stay up all night eating junk food and playing games in your pajamas. Maybe make a blanket fort.”

Fred stops what he’s doing and leans back against the counter with his arms crossed on his chest. He tilts his head to the side as he observes me looking amused.

“You’re ridiculous,” he finally says.

“Oh don’t be a party pooper,” I tell him, crossing my own arms. “You know it sounds fun.”

His lips twitch as he tries not to smile and I know I’ve won.

“It sounds awfully girly,” he says, trying to sound hesitant and unsure. I grin and step forward until I’m invading his space. I run my fingers lightly down one of his biceps and look up at him through my eyelashes. I see him swallow and look down at my lips.

“You’ll fit right in then,” I tell him and then dance away as he tries to grab me.

“George was right. You are a minx!” he exclaims as he chases after me. I giggle and find myself backed into a corner as he stalks towards me. He doesn’t stop until his hand is against the wall next to my face, blocking me in, and my back is flush against the wall. He takes his other hand and weaves it through my hair until it's cupping the back of my head, causing my heart to pound and my breaths to come out in small gasps.

“You drive me mad,” he whispers and then his lips are on mine and I lose myself. 


	18. The Wedding

This is it. Today is the day. It’s possible that I’m hyperventilating, but I’m too busy panicking to be able to tell for sure. Today is the day I become Mrs. Fred Weasley. In fact, I should probably have rolled out of bed about an hour ago when Sam came in to wake me, but my panic has held me prisoner under my soft, warm familiar blankets. I can’t say that it’s a bad kind of panic crawling under my skin and making my hands shake with uncontrollable tremors. Sure it’s not pleasant, but it’s not like I’m terrified for my life or anything. Just for my entire future.

Of course I trust Fred and in the logical part of my brain I know it will all be fine even if it’s not the happily ever after that I’ve been hoping for. Then again, the what if’s keep scrolling across the forefront of my mind like the credits at the end of a film. What if it doesn’t work out? What if we end up hating each other? What if- and this is the big one- What if I fall completely irrevocably head over heels in love with him and he doesn’t fall in love with me back? How will I survive that?

A soft tap on the door breaks me from my spiralling thoughts. It’s Sam. She’s back to force me out of bed and back into reality to face the facts. I tug the blanket up over my head and roll onto my side to face to wall, putting my back to the doorway. Maybe it’s not Sam, I think as I hear the door open and click shut behind my unwelcome visitor. Maybe Sam called in reinforcements. Maybe it’s George, or my mother, or- God forbid- Mrs. Weasley.

“Cor?”

My eyes pop open wide at the whispered voice.

“Fred?” I squeak, too shocked to even reprimand him for shortening my name. “What are you doing here? You’re not supposed to see me before… Before later,” I finish lamely. God, how pathetic that I can’t even voice the word ‘wedding’ or ‘ceremony’. This is the lowly bottom to which I have sunk.

“Well then you’d better stay wrapped up in that blanket so I don’t accidentally catch a glimpse,” he replies in a carefully light and teasing tone. I feel the edge of the bed behind my back sink under his weight and I tense.

“Sam called me,” he says gently after several long moments of uncomfortable silence. I say nothing. I figured that Sam was the culprit seeing as she was the only one here this morning. She had offered to stay the night over with me while Fred stayed with George and Lee so we could uphold the tradition of the bride and grooming not seeing each other on the day of the wedding until the bride is walking down the aisle. But I’m still shocked that it’s Fred she called and not George or someone else.

“She was worried,” he continues after a beat. “She said you were having a panic attack or something and she didn’t know what to do.”

I wince internally at Sam’s choice of words. This isn’t a panic attack. This is nothing like what George has to go through. This is just me being pathetic and stupid.

“I’m fine,” I try to reassure him, although I’m sure it’s not all that reassuring seeing as I’m still hiding from the world under my covers. Fred sighs and I feel his weight shift on the mattress. I don’t know what he’s doing until I can feel his warm body pressed against my back, though still separated by blankets, and his arm comes around over the top of my waist and pulls me close. I tense and just lay there not really breathing.

“Just relax Cor,” Fred says quietly. And so I do. I release the breath I’d been holding and allow the tension to drain from my shoulders. Then I realize that my hands have stopped shaking and that they haven’t been since Fred has been here. Fred squeezes my middle reassuringly and nuzzles his nose into the nape of my neck through the covers. I sigh and close my eyes and let the last of my tension ease away as we continue to just lay in bed, in no hurry to get on with the day. I’m not sure how much time passes before Fred finally speaks, but it’s long enough for me to start feeling drowsy again.

“What’s bothering you most?” Fred asks in an almost whisper. I take my time responding to the question, having to puzzle out the answer myself.

“I’m afraid that I’ll end up alone,” I finally answer. It doesn’t really make sense since I’m being forced into marrying Fred, so technically I’m not allowed to be alone, but it makes sense to me and Fred seems to understand where I’m coming from.

“Me too,” he says. I frown deeply.

“You won’t be alone,” I tell him, not to reassure him, but because it’s something that I know for a fact. How could someone as kind and clever and compassionate as Fred Weasley ever end up alone? Not when he has so many people here for him now.

“You’ll always have your family and George and Lee and… and me and my family,” I say hesitantly. “If you’ll have me.”

Fred is still and silent for a minute before he finally moves. I gasp in surprise when suddenly the blanket is ripped from over my face, letting in fresh air and most importantly, the view of Fred leaning over me to put his face above mine.

“Do you mean that?” he demands, his face as serious as I’ve ever seen it. I’m shocked to see the dark rings under his eyes that tell of a sleepless night, and worry wrinkles maring his once smooth forehead and his brilliant red hair sticking up every which way as though it’s had nervous fingers running through it all night and morning long.

“You’re- You’re not supposed to see me-,” I stutter unconvincingly as my eyes continue to roam his face.

“Oh bollocks,” Fred dismisses, rolling his eyes. “You don’t believe that silly superstition any more that I do.”

I can’t help but to smile a bit at that. He’s right. The whole thing is a load of dung and he and I both know it, but we’ve played along anyway.

“Did you mean that?” Fred repeats himself, unwilling to be distracted. I swallow thickly and look over his face some more. Not only does he look stressed, but he looks… Concerned and nervous.

“Of course I do,” I answer quietly, turning my gaze to where my anxious fingers play with the frayed edge of my blanket. “You’re kind of a hard person not to like. To _really_ like.”

I avoid Fred’s gaze even as it rakes over my face looking for sincerity.

“And you think you’re not?” he asks after a long beat of silent observation. My eyes flick up to his briefly before settling back to my hands.

“I’m alright,” I tell him with a shrug. It’s the truth. I’m not a terrible person, but I’m nothing special either.

“Only alright?” he says. “I think you’re brilliant.”

I snort softly and shake my head.

“No really,” he continues earnestly. He seeming to lose his patience with me and hooks his finger under my chin to force me to meet his stare. “You’re one of the best things to ever happen to me and I’ll be damned if I’m not already half in love with you and it’s only been a few weeks,” he says with a nervous chuckle, now avoiding my eyes by looking just to the left of my face.

My breath catches in throat. I stare wide eyed into his face while trying to rein in my thoughts. He what? Me? What? _Me?_

“You mean that?” I ask, unconsciously repeating his question from earlier. He slides his gaze back to mine and nods and I can see the sincerity there and also how afraid he is now that he’s aired his confession.

“Well uh, well if that’s the case then I must already be three-fourths in love with you, because there’s no way that I’m more important to you than you are to me,” I tell him, trying to sound nonchalant while my heart thunders in my chest and oxygen suddenly seems hard to come by. He stares at me for one agonizing moment with no expression at all. Then finally a beaming smile breaks through and his deep blue eyes fairly sparkle. His worry wrinkles smooth out and his laugh lines next to his eyes return.

“You’ve always got to one up me don’t you?” he teases, and the pressure on my chest suddenly releases and I find myself back on familiar ground. Me and Fred playfully teasing each other.

“Well I wouldn’t know about that,” I say with a smirk, “I think I’m just naturally better than you.”

Fred throws his head back in a laugh that seems to be more out of relief and happiness rather than a response to my joke and I can’t help but smile in return.

“I think I might love you,” he says cupping my cheek in his palm and leaning in close. I smile as the butterflies in my stomach take flight.

“I think I might love you back,” I whisper. He leans in closer and barely touches his lips against mine before pulling back slowly. As he moves back I catch a glimpse of the glowing numbers of my clock behind him and my eyes widen.

“Shi-! Fred, it’s after ten!” I exclaim, unable to get up because he’s still hovering over me and trapping me down with his arm.

“So it is,” he says without concern, not even bothering to look away from my face. “Good thing they can’t start the wedding without the bride and groom.”

I give him my best unamused look and try to squirm away. He tightens his grip around my waist and smirks in amusement.

“Fred,” I say in exasperation, “We can’t keep everyone waiting on us. It’s rude.”

“Well,” Fred begins slowly, pausing to lean in and kiss me again. “As it seems I am the more important one in this relationship, I say screw them. They can wait.”

I try not to grin, I really do. Unfortunately it breaks free and I’m left to just shake my head and sigh.

“I’m really going to regret telling you that aren’t I?” I say. Fred grins and presses his lips against the underside of my jaw.

“Yep,” he says casually against the skin there while my heart pounds against my ribcage like a prisoner and I forget to breath.

I wish I could say that I felt bad when I finally showed up at the Burrow an hour and a half later than planned and Mrs. Weasley, my mother, Sam, and Rylie all had to rush to get me ready in time. I wish I could say that I had even an ounce of guilt, but I didn’t and I don’t. Making things right with Fred and discovering that we had the same fears in this marriage and that these fears were unfounded was definitely worth it. Spending the morning just holding each other and reassuring each other that everything would be fine was worth it.

I float around as though in a dream as Sam does my makeup, rolling her eyes at my insistence that she use my pink lipstick, and my mother fixes my hair so it’s half up half down with wavy curls in my dirty blonde hair. Rylie fits the veil onto the top of my head so it’s wedged back against the clip the holds back my hair from my face.

Mrs. Weasley and my mother help me into my dress and then I stand ready to go while they clean up after us. Eventually Mrs. Weasley scurries off to make sure boys are ready and that everyone is where they are supposed to be. Sam and Rylie, my only two bridesmaids, follow after her after giving me lingering hugs to go get in their places. Now it is just my mother and I and she is standing with tears in her eyes.

“Cora,” she says in a choked voice. She can’t seem to find her words so she wraps her arms around me in a tight hug instead. I hold her close and press my cheek into her shoulder. I am truly going to miss my parents.

“Are you sure about this?” she asks. I smile slightly, because we both know that I have to go through with it whether I’m sure about it or not, but she still asks.

“Fred and I talked this morning,” I tell her.

“You did?” she says, releasing me from the hug to hold me at arms length. “You weren’t supposed to see each other-,”

“I know mum,” I interrupt. “But it was important and we both needed it.”

She continues to look worried, but nods.

“I think we’re going to be alright,” I tell her.

“Are you sure?” she asks, motherly concern still smeared across her features. I think about Fred and getting to spend the rest of my life teasing him and laughing together and simply sitting in silence and enjoying each other’s presence. I smile.

“Yeah I’m sure,” I tell her. She smiles back and I watch as the tension and worry drains from her face.

“Good,” she replies and pulls me into another quick hug. “I was worried about you the most.”

I chuckle as we step back. I can see why she’d be worried if the beginning of all this was anything to go by.

“Now that that’s settled,” my mother says, getting back to business. “Are you absolutely positive that you have to wear _those_ shoes of all things?” she says, her upper lips curling slightly as her eyes stare down at where my shoes would be visible if it weren’t for the length of my dress. I grin devilishly.

“Oh I’m sure mom,” I tell her. “They are a necessity. You’ll see.”

“That’s what worries me,” she says with a long suffering sigh. “I just hope you’re not planning anything too scandalous.”

**.**

**|18|~*~|18|**

**.**

“I now declare you bonded for life. You may kiss the bride.”

I look Fred up and down dubiously.

“I dunno…,” I start unsurely, struggling not to smile. “I try not to make it a habit to kiss guys wearing such… loud clothing.”

“Oh just shut up for once and kiss me,” Fred says and then pulls me against him in a heated kiss. I close my eyes and giggle against his warm lips, unreasonably happy. When we part he winks at me and his face is shining with the same warm happiness that I can feel bubbling in my chest.

“Like you’re one to talk anyway,” he says still holding me close. “Look at you!”

I giggle again (I know! Giggling!), and look down at my dress. Next to Fred’s dress robes it’s the most obnoxious thing I think I’ve ever seen. It’s full of purples and greens and reds and is a small plaid pattern that makes me dizzy if I stare at it for too long or if I twirl. It also clashes horribly with Fred’s deep purple robes, even without the added distraction of neon orange rubber duckies.

“I think it’s safe to say that we’ve both got some messed up visions of our dream wedding,” I reply. He laughs loudly and goes in for another kiss which I accept gracefully.

“Ah hem.”

Fred slowly ends the kiss and then we both turn to see George standing behind Fred with eyebrows raised expectantly.

“As much as I’d love to stand here all day,” George says, beaming despite his impatient tone, “Could you two stop snogging for a minute and get a move on. Everyone’s waiting.”

I stick my tongue out at him while Fred seems somewhat surprised at our continued audience.

“Party pooper,” I complain. George just rolls his eyes.

“Oh and Fred,” George continues with a grin. “You’ve got a little something…” He gestures to Fred’s lips where my pink lipstick that I wore specifically for the occasion is smeared. Fred frowns and rubs at it with his sleeve. I grin mischievously and a wink at George. He furrows his brow for a second as he looks between me and Fred who’s still rubbing at his mouth. The lipstick hasn’t so much as faded.

I wait until George’s eyes go wide with realization and then before he can even flinch I plant a big ole smackeroo right on his cheek. He jumps back with a yell and begins furiously scrubbing at his face to no avail. Fred stares at him for a moment in confusion and then notices the lipstick isn’t coming off. He turns to me looking awed and even pleased while I cackle like a madwoman.

“You little minx!” he finally says with a gleam in his eye. I decide now would be a really good time to make a break for it. I hike up my dress, glad that I decided on my sneakers despite my mother and mother-in-law’s protests, and pause only to slap high-fives with Sam, my matron of honor, before I run like hell outta there, still cackling away.

“Get back here you!” I hear Fred shout behind me as both twins give chase down the aisle and then out of the tent completely.

“Don’t worry! It’ll wear off in a couple of hours!” I call over my shoulder as I tear out of the tent and continue my sprint towards the Burrow. Unfortunately, taking the time to taunt the twins plus my undying laughter, my giant poufy dress, and my naturally slow running ability all team up against me and lead to my demise.

I squeal as a strong arm hooks around my waist, pulling me clean off my feet and snugly against a broad warm chest.

“You’ll have to pay dearly for this one,” Fred growls in my ear. I shiver as his warm breath tickles past the side of my face, but then George appears in front of me grinning horribly. My eyes widen in dread.

“No! Wait-,”

But then he’s tickling my sides savagely while Fred holds me captive and I can’t breathe through my laughter.

“Damn it woman stop kicking me!” Fred grunts as I shriek and try to twist away from George’s fingers to no avail. Eventually George stops, leaving me to sag panting with my back still pressed against Fred’s chest.

“That’ll teach you to prank a couple of professionals,” George tells me, still grinning. I grin back, unashamed as I catch sight of the pink lipstick stains on his face.

“It was worth it,” I gasp out, rubbing at my aching sides. “Those will last through most of the reception.” Neither twin seems to mind this much and instead trade proud looks, like they’ve trained me well.

“So what do you call it and when will it be ready for mass production?” Fred asks casually.

“What?” I ask, freeing myself from his arms so I can turn and see his face properly. He raises his eyebrows and continues to smile like he’s the luckiest man in the world.

“Well if we’re going to sell it in the shop it’ll need a name won’t it?” he asks. “Honestly you can’t just make an excellent pranking product and then not market it, especially when you have an in with some prestigious business men who could help you out.” He and George both puff out their chests as he says this as though I might not know who he’s referring to.

“And besides, you’re a Weasley now and it’s called Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes. It’s doesn’t specify how many Weasleys there are running it.”

My jaw drops at his implied offer and I stare between him and George who is nodding encouragingly.

“You want me to help you run your shop?” I ask, astounded.

“We want you to _partner_ with us. 40/40/20,” Fred corrects me. If it’s possible my jaw drops further.

“You want me to _own_ twenty percent of your shop?” I squeak. “But that’s your _baby_.”

“Only if you want to,” he says. “No pressure if you don’t. But we talked about it and we agreed that you’d be brilliant.”

I’m speechless for a minute as I just gape between the two of them. _They’re_ _serious_. I don’t even… I can’t… This is… Wow. Just wow.

“I-I don’t know,” I finally manage. “I’ve never even thought about…” I trail off and shake my head to try and clear my thoughts.

This is a big deal. Honestly I’ve never even thought about officially being a part of the twins and their shop. I mean that’s _theirs_. I have no business butting in. I kind of figured that if I learned something cool while working for the Experimental Charms Department I could share it with them, or help them apply things I learn to their products. But a _partnership_? That never even entered my mind. That’s a big deal.

“How about…” I suggest slowly, “How about 45/45/10? I don’t want to be involved with business decisions, I mean that’s all you guys. But contributing to the products would be cool.”

Fred and George glance at each other and have one of their silent conversations. It takes about two seconds and then they both turn to me.

“Are you sure?” they ask simultaneously. I smile fondly at them.

“Of course I am. So what do ya say? Partners?” I ask crossing my arms at the elbows and offering a hand to each of them to shake. They grin and each grasp the hand offered to them and we shake on it.

“Partners,” they chorus back. Then Fred snakes his arm back around my waist and jerks me back against him.

“Go away George. I’m going to snog my wife now,” he says while staring into my eyes looking deliriously happy. George makes an offended noise causing me to giggle. We all know he really doesn’t mind.

“You know someone predicted this was going to happen!” he calls over his shoulder as he walks away back towards the tent. I grin again and bite my bottom lip happily, because he did and at the time I thought he was stark raving mad. Now though I see that he just had the unfair advantage of knowing both of us better than we knew each other.

**.**

_** Epilogue ** _

**.**

It’s been a busy morning cooking and cleaning, but it’s all paying off seeing all of my friends and family smiling and talking in my backyard while the all little ones run around laughing and screaming playfully. It’s the big family gathering of the summer and the sun is finally out for once and everyone is happy. I smile and hum to myself as I refill the crisp bowl from the bag in the cupboard.

“Someone’s in a good mood,” George says teasingly, shutting the sliding glass door behind him and entering the kitchen. I just smile and shrug.

“Married life suits you,” George comments, not seeming to really expect a response as he reaches in the refrigerator for a cold butterbeer.

“I’m just happy,” I tell him honestly. And I am. It’s been three years since I married Fred and life is good. Not that we never fight or have issues, but we love each other and have wonderful friends and family and everything is going right. What more could I ask for?

My job in Experimental Charms is engaging and I’m actually really good at it and the shop is flourishing. The twins are even considering opening up a second branch. Rylie already has two kids who get doted on by everyone and she adores being a mother. Both she and Jon are happy in their marriages, although Jon and Lisa have decided not to have any kids, at least for now. Much the same as Fred and I, although we’re more or less just taking it a day at a time.

I know Fred wants kids and I do too, eventually, but we’re still plenty young and in no hurry to make any changes just yet. Not when we’re both so content and satisfied with life. I hate to say it, but that ridiculous marriage law was the best thing to ever happen to me. I never would have found Fred without it.

I’d still be paranoid over the lives of my siblings and blaming myself for every little thing that goes wrong in their lives and not giving myself a chance to live my own life. Fred might even still have been stuck in that muggle mental institution. Fred has done so much for me and has completely changed my life for the better. I have expanded my family and gained a best friend that I would die for and found the love of my life and I couldn’t be happier.

“George,” I say out of nowhere. “You’re my absolute best friend ever. But don’t tell Sam.”

George looks bemused for a moment, but before he can respond, Sam herself sashays into the kitchen from the connecting door to the sitting room.

“Don’t tell Sam what?” she asks, not looking too concerned as she roots around in the cupboard for the pickle flavored crisps that I keep just for her.

“Nothing,” I say in an innocent tone.

“That Cora made pickle wrap dip,” George interrupts me to tell her, winking at me behind her back.

“Ooo!” Sam exclaims excitedly, dropping the crisps on the counter and heading to the fridge instead. I roll my eyes fondly and trade grins with George.

Just then Fred comes in from outside, shaking a small redhaired child from his leg in the process. It looks like Charlie’s two year old Gabe, but when the roots of his hair start turning turquoise I realize that it’s Harry’s Godson, Teddy, who happens to be a metamorphmagus like his mother. Lately he’s taken a fancy to trying to change his appearance to be more Weasley-esque.

Fred is the favorite uncle among the young ones including Teddy, the Weasley children, and with Rylie’s kids as well, but we let Jon think otherwise. Sure Jon is good with kids and they love his goofy self, but Fred is the one constantly sought out by the children to romp and play. I’ve only had to step in a few times and discipline Fred for being a bad influence. A few pranks are okay, but every now and again he tries to see just how close he can toe the line before I step in to stop him from crossing it.

Fred swipes his hair from his impossibly blue eyes, catches sight of me and grins. I smile back, but he is immediately distracted.

“Hey!” he exclaims, striding into the kitchen. “No one told me there was pickle wrap dip!”

Sam wordlessly hands him one of her crackers and they both scoop some of the dip and pop their crackers into their respective mouths.

“That’s because I wanted it to last past the morning,” I deadpan, watching the pair dig in. A couple of adicts those two are. “Why don’t you at least take that outside.”

“But then we’ll have to share,” Sam pouts. George and I trade exasperated looks.

“Yes,” I say slowly. Sam huffs, but grabs up the bowl and the box of crackers and heads out the door with her bounty.

“George,” I say.

“I’m on it,” he says, following her out the door to make sure she doesn’t just hide out somewhere with the whole thing. I shake my head with a grin, thinking about how outrageous it is that we even have to do this, but knowing that I wouldn’t want them any different than the way they are. I walk over to where Fred is washing what I hope is mud from his hands in the sink. I wrap my arms around his waist and rest my cheek against the hard planes of his back.

“What’s this?” Fred asks, sounding amused while reaching for a dish towel to dry his hands.

“I just love you is all,” I hum contentedly.

“I love you too,” he responds. Then I have to loosen my hold on him so he can turn to face me and wrap his arms around me himself. I bury my face in his chest and sigh happily. He leans down and I tip my head up until our lips brush. No sooner than they do the door slides open yet again.

“What is this a porno?” Seb demands as he wipes his muddy shoes on the rug. I break the kiss to turn my head and mock scowl at him.

“Your face is a porno,” I tell him.

“Your face smells like a porno,” he rebuttals with a smirk before heading over to the fridge. I pull a face.

“Eew.” Then we both laugh and Fred shakes his head at our quirkiness.

“I will never understand this game,” he laments. I grin and pat him chest soothingly.

“It’s okay baby,” I tell him condescendingly. “We’ll just add it to the list.”

He growls and whispers in my ear, “You’ll pay for that later.”

“Oh will I?” I ask.

“Mhmm,” Fred tells me, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “Later when there aren’t any witnesses.”

“Okay, gross,” Seb inserts, reminding us of his presence as he pops the cap off his new butterbeer. I grin at him unabashed.

“You don’t _have_ to be in here you know,” I tell him.

“Ron and Jon started up a game,” he explains, tipping the bottle to his lips. Fred and I both make a face. I sigh and rub my forehead with my knuckles.

“Why do they insist on this everytime we get together? Can’t we just have one peaceful get together?” I complain.

“Nope,” Seb says popping the ‘p’. “You know how they are. They’re both convinced that they’re the best chess masters ever and heaven forbid there be anyone who thinks differently.”

I sigh. Seb’s right. The two of them started out amicably enough; bonding over their love of chess, but their games can get pretty nasty. Of course neither of them have a problem with the other. That is, until chess gets brought up and then they go from being good friends to flat out enemies.

“Would it make me a bad hostess if I hide in here for the next hour or so?” I ask, only half joking.

“You do whatever you want love,” Fred says, dropping a kiss on my cheek and detaching himself from me. “But I have a horde of small children who are begging to to play Merlin Says, so I must be off.”

“Try not to have them do anything too outlandish,” I warn him. He just winks at me and slips out the door. I make a mental note to check on him soon. Can’t trust the little bugger.

“How’s Auror training?” I ask Seb after a bit of quiet, reclining back against the counter to get comfortable. He shrugs, but can’t stop the pleased grin from forming on his face.

“I just found out yesterday that I’m top of the class. Only second to Zambini, but he’s a few years older so that’s alright.”

“That’s great Seb!” I crow. “Why didn’t you say something before?” He just shrugs again. “Well I’m going to tell mum and dad and then we can all celebrate,” I decide with finality. He just rolls his eyes and smiles while taking another swig of his drink.

“If you wish,” he says.

“I do wish. Now come on,” I say bossily before heading to the door. He smiles and follows. And so we head outside into the sunshine and warm summer air and I can’t help but to smile at my life; even if it is all thanks to that absurd, dehumanizing, preposterous, unreasonable, freedom stealing marriage law

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well that's it folks. Hope you enjoyed the ride. :) Leave me some kudos so I know I did a good job yeah?


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